


Every Move You Make

by persephonekyoko



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: BL, Boy Love, F/M, Fluff and Smut, From misunderstandings all the way to matrimony, Healthy Relationships, Humor, Kuon tells all, Let's Break Sho, Lotus in the Mire, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Ren is Desperate, RenKyo, Romantic Fluff, Shameless Smut, Shoga, Slow Burn, Yaoi, heel siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 14:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 125
Words: 234,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephonekyoko/pseuds/persephonekyoko
Summary: Kyoko's wrestling with her feelings for Ren births struggles for Momiji. Her rash decision to live out the role and understand her own love story shows Ren just how deep her misunderstandings go— and brings Kuon crashing through. An unexpected BL/yaoi twist for Sho leaves him understanding exactly what he put Kyoko through. M-rated OOC side fics in EMYM: Makes Me Want You.
Relationships: Fuwa Sho / Koga Hiromune, Kotonami Kanae/Yashiro Yukihito, Mogami Kyoko/Tsuruga Ren
Comments: 108
Kudos: 92





	1. Losing Grip

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy reading even just a tiny bit, as that would totally make my day. Writing this fic -- especially the Lotus and Shoga portions -- has inspired a whole new passion for creative writing in me that I didn't know existed, and I am very much looking forward to the future. Thanks for reading! As always, send ideas and critiques as Persie feeds off lemons, fellowship, and ways to grow!

_Losing Grip_

Kyoko stood on a high green screen mountain at the left edge of the set. A fan whirred from the rafters, blowing warm air that lifted and swirled her long kunoichi hair tie. She breathed deep, trying to fall into Momiji before the cameras swung her way. A pervasive uneasiness remained within her, making her fidget.

Down below, Shizuma and Chidori walked through a bamboo grove. The couple walked forward, slowly moving closer until their hands brushed. Shizuma looked down at Chidori adoringly, tenderly clasping her hand in his. Momiji watched from above, a solitary dark figure guarding their path. The camera zoomed in on her.

As she watched the pair, Kyoko's vision blurred. Chidori's hair seemed to lighten, growing blonde, as Shizuma gazed down at her. It was them, hand in hand again just like on the tabloid magazine that morning. _Tsuruga and Kana._

The camera caught her expression's shift. Her shoulders slumped as Momiji sagged, her eyes losing their bright alertness.

"CUT!" Director Morizumi yelled. "Mogami-san. Wrong." He rubbed his forehead. Kyoko jumped up, startled.

"Ai-yah, sir! Sorry sir!" She bowed to the director below.

"Pay attention to your character's motivations, Mogami-san," Morizumi warned, giving her no additional detail.

Kyoko nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. Momiji's shoulders had sagged. Even should an arrow pierce her gut, should Shizuma demand her life, should the world as she knew it fall down around her- her shoulders would not sag. She carried the pride of her family's honor in service upon them and would do so until death. "I understand, sir!" Kyoko straightened, her bands snapping in the wind behind her.

"Alright, back to start positions everyone. Retake."

Filming proceeded as normal; Kyoko managing to pass Morizumi's scrutiny. Chidori and Momiji had a final scene to shoot before lunch: the first confrontation between the two women after Chidori suspects Momiji's love for Shizuma.

"Places!"

Momiji squatted on the ground beside a small campfire. She scritched at the ground with a broken branch, waiting for Shizuma's tea to steep. She had assembled exactly one tea setting and brewed only a few ounces, ignoring the presence of that woman completely. Chidori sat on a fallen tree just on the edge of the camera's field of view, staring at the ninja with narrowed eyes. She worried at her dress with her hands.

Momiji shifted, grabbing another stick for the fire. She knew Chidori was weighing her, but wasn't certain why. She couldn't care less, though. The woman was weak; a liability. Why Shimuzu-sama had allowed her to come on their trip was beyond Momiji's comprehension, but she didn't dare question her lord's judgment. He was beyond reproach. She heard Chidori clear her throat. She didn't bother to look up.

"Momiji-san?" Chidori's voice prodded at her annoyingly.

Momiji still didn't look up. This woman wasn't worth her time.

"Momiji-san, I need to speak with you."

Momiji shifted, nodding slightly for Chidori to continue. Either that or let the cow keep saying her name. At least if she spoke her piece, Momiji could ignore a string of varied words instead of the same syllables on repeat.

"I… Shizuma and I…" Chidori began, haltingly. Momiji's head snapped up at the girl's use of Shizuma's name with no honorifics. Her eyes blazed possessively as she glared at Chidori.

"Shimuzu-sama, woman." Momiji interrupted.

"No," Chidori said, softly but firmly. "Not to me. To me, he is just Shizuma." Chidori paused, meeting Momiji's eyes. She flinched back, her hand raising in a partial warding sign. She continued despite her obvious trembling. "I will always be by his side now, as his lover," Chidori said. "And you will never be more than his servant." She took a deep breath and raised her chin, watching Momiji.

Momiji stood silently. This was her cue to snarl at Chidori and stalk over, terrifying her without touching her. But Kyoko couldn't maintain her composure; this was too close, too much like what she believed to be true. _Another woman by his side._ Her grip on Momiji faltered. "You—" Director Morizumi watched her closely. _Friends. Always friends_. Kyoko grabbed mentally for her line. "I will never leave his side either," she forced out. She couldn't find the anger Momiji needed. There was just grief and resignation. _Friends. Always friends. Never more. Always by his side, but someone was closer._

"CUT. NG. Mogami-san, come here immediately," Producer Kuresaki's bored voice cut unexpectedly through the set as he glared at her. Kyoko cringed. Of all people, for Kuresaki to arrive during this scene was catastrophic. She, a mere talento, had failed Momiji again. She couldn't understand where Momiji found the strength to keep fighting for closeness to Shizuma. Why would she want to stay near when he was someone else's? All Kyoko could ever do around Tsuruga-san was flee.

"Mogami-san, your fight scenes are excellent. Your choreography is excellent, as expected of a student of the Master. In the audition, your understanding of Momiji's possessiveness and fire was impeccable. Today, though, you completely lost the character." Kuresaki bit off the words in the last sentence, his disappointment palpable. "You are dismissed. Return tomorrow with a full grasp on this character or you are fired." Kuresaki turned to the rest of the shocked team. "Lunch break. We will film the Chidori and Shizuma bedroom scene after lunch."

Kyoko flushed in embarrassment, standing still with her head bowed to the whole group in apology as they filed out for lunch. His words ran through her head. He was right. She had lost Momiji, even after Director Morizumi had given her advice earlier. She wasn't sure what to do. As she wandered out of the studio to change, Kyoko fingered her phone. In these scenarios, her sempai had always been the first person she turned to. But now… _Not possible._ She couldn't interfere with him. _More like I can't stomach the possibility he may mention Kana-san to me._ She flipped her phone out and pushed her #1 Speed Dial.

"Hello, Moko-san? I need to talk to you. Are you free for lunch today?"


	2. I'll Be Watching You

Kanae stared at the pile of writhing Mogami in front of her. Intermittent moans of "Mooookoooooo" echoed from the depths of the blob.

"Ew," Kanae grimaced. "Mo, stop it."

Kyoko's head emerged from the blob. "Mooookooooooooo, you need to heeeeelllpppp meeeeeeeeee…" she breathed out, borderline creepily. She reached for her friend.

Kanae huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in her seat. She'd seen her friend get dramatic many times, but this was beyond absurd. "Mo, just tell me what your problem is." It probably had to do with Tsuruga Ren, after all, and Kanae had no patience for relationship drama. Especially when it dealt with that annoyingly hard to read man!

Kyoko whimpered, turning giant puppy dog eyes at Moko. She just stared sadly at Moko, her eyes forming into liquid pools of supplication.

"Mo! Fine!" Kanae couldn't take it anymore. She reached over and lightly patted Kyoko on the head, averting her face so she didn't have to watch. "It'll be okay… hush, now."

Kyoko preened under her friend's touch. "Mokooooooooo," she beamed. She sat up straight, grinning broadly. "You are magical, Moko-san!" Kanae couldn't quite hide her smile. Her friend was so easy to please. Really, why did that onerous man find her so hard to figure out?

"Kyoko-chan, just tell me what your problem is. I know it's not just a need for a head pat, mo."

Kyoko pouted. "Well, yes, but… do we have to? Let's eat our sandwiches first!" Kyoko attacked her sandwich hungrily, stuffing her face and making it impossible to talk. Or chew propoerly. Kanae huffed, refusing to eat until the drama and spazzing out was guaranteed at an end. Nothing was worse than trying to flee from Kyoko's embraces after a calorie-dense meal.

"Kyoko-chan," she admonished. "Now."

Kyoko groaned. She pulled at her hair. She took a second massive bite of sandwhich before she was even done chewing the first, much to the digust of Kanae. She hemmed and hawed and huffed until finally Kanae leaned across the table and grabbed her cheeks. "NOW, Kyoko-chan!"

"Mhhmfjraahmfuahblrph!"

"Augh, swallow first. Mo, I don't have all day." Kanae tapped her fingers. She genuinely wanted to help her friend. It itched at her knowing that the cause of all this delay was likely to be Tsuruga-san. Kyoko would talk to her about anything, but could never get her thoughts straight when it came to that man.

Kyoko gulped a drink of water and forced down a final swallow. She took a deep breath, her eyes focusing on the edge of the table. "I might get fired from Momiji."

Kanae's usually unflappable features showed alarm at this blunt confession. She leaned forward over the table towards Kyoko. "Mo! Kyoko-chan, you are perfect for that part. What happened?" Her eyes grew larger as she realized a potential cause. "Kimiko isn't harassing you again, is she?" Kanae was getting angry, balling her delicate hands into white-knuckled fists.

"No, no. It's all my fault. I've… lost the character. Moko, I can't seem to understand her. Shizuma is with Chidori and he says he loves her. Why isn't Momiji sad? Why is she so confident when she confronts Chidori? And why in heaven's name does she keep following them around – I mean, I know the vow, but she's so determined and seems like she wants to do it. Doesn't it… hurt?"

Kanae scruntinized her best friend. These were unusually apt descriptions that directly contradicted the script. Had Kyoko gotten personal experience somewhere? Did her feelings for a certain actor actually move beyond what she had thought was merely a professional obsession into something far more personal? Perhaps if she needled her a little she could find out.

"Mo, it's simple. Just find a way to practice Momiji where you aren't under the pressure of the camera. Tsuruga-san and Kana-san, for example. They're the perfect Shizuma and Chidori. Just pretend you love Tsuruga-san and then work to live out Momiji's intentions. Protect him from that unworthy woman." Kanae kept her face expressionless as she carefully watched her friend's face turn a shocking shade of red. She waited for the explosion.

"NO! There's another way! I know there's another way! Moko, you—you can be Shizuma! How about we just find a wig and I will be Momiji and, and, Chiori can be Chidori. Yes, that's perfect!" Kyoko flailed at Moko, faking a giant smile.

"Don't be ridiculous, mo. I'm not a boy and I am too busy anyways with training for my audition in America. How could we manage to practice this _and_ my English lessons? You aren't going back on your promise to me, are you?" Kanae narrowed her eyes at her friend, pretending to be suspicious. She knew Kyoko would never back down on anything they had agreed to do together. But Kanae wanted to push Kyoko on this. She wanted her friend to resolve once and for all her sempai issues. It hurt her, watching Kyoko so unsure - and now it was even impacting her acting success. Kyoko needed to own it or move on.

Kyoko bounded across the table in one giant leap, landing on the floor next to Kanae in a perfect dogeza. "I would never ever back down on a promise to you Mokooooo!" she yelled, muffled by the floor. "I cannot wait to start our lessons! Let's begin now, and forget everything I just asked for! A-E-I-O-U, and ABC, DEF, GHI—"

"MO! Shush, no Kyoko. I know the English alphabet," Kanae switched to English. "I require… help you from for practice."

Kyoko beamed at her best friend, speaking in English as well. "Of course, it would be my pleasure to help you with your practice. Simply inform me of the earliest convenient time and I will ensure I am present."

Kanae blinked. "Please… ah, speak more slowly." The two girls laughed and Kyoko started again. They talked in circles in English for several minutes, truly enjoying the time to just relax and focus. It was like a mental puzzle for Kanae. Soon, she needed a break to try and absorb what she had learned. Kyoko fiercely hugged her friend, making Kanae extremely uncomfortable.

"Mo, enough. I will see text you for more practice," Kanae said as she froze under Kyoko's loving embrace. "But remember, Kyoko-chan; you need to go practice Momiji. Find her fire. Go steal Tsuruga-san back from Chidori." Kanae stared her friend down, then smiled, turned and walked away.

"But- but," Kyoko called after Kanae. "I've tried imagining him as Shizuma! It makes it worse!" Kanae didn't listen, just waving back at Kyoko.

Kyoko sat down glumly. "I've tried…" Every time she had seen Shizuma on set he had turned into Tsuruga-san for her. She couldn't dare use him to practice. First off, who was she to "win him back"? Kanae talked as if Tsuruga-san was hers in the first place! "I mean, as if Shizuma was Momiji's!" Kyoko blurted aloud. "I'm just a kohai. Just… a friend. I don't have a right to win him back." _Just like Momiji can't win back Shizuma… she's just his sworn ninja._ Kyoko pondered. _But that doesn't stop her fire for him._ Maybe Kanae had a point!

"I can at least try following him," Kyoko said to the empty room. "Momiji never lets him out of her sight. Maybe… maybe I can practice this way?" Kyoko thought about it. Tsuruga-san would never know. She could practice seeing her "Shizuma and Chidori" together and controlling the emotions of Momiji – and work on her stealth skills as well. Kyoko nodded firmly. This could work. She sent Yashiro-san a text.

-Could you please send me Tsuruga-san's schedule tonight?—

Yashiro stared at the message, wondering. He tapped his lips with his finger, then shrugged. Absolutely nothing bad could come from Kyoko wanting to see Ren. And tonight was perfect; that meddling LoveMon President of theirs had interefered again and forced Ren into a very uncomfortable situation. Kyoko's appearance would cause just the chaos needed to set everything back on track. He snapped photos of Ren's schedule for the next full week, not just tonight, and sent them directly to Kyoko. _Team RenKyo unite!_ Yashiro punched the air, smiling secretly.


	3. A Pair of Chickens

Ren stared at himself in the mirror. _Eight hours_ _until I need to pick her up._ He ran his fingers through his hair. He wanted to show up in sweatpants and a stained shirt, drunk and stinking of whisky. How had this happened? Why had _President Takarada_ let it happen?! He thought for sure the President was on his side. But instead, Takarada had swiftly agreed to Kana's agency's request for Kana to treat him to dinner tonight as an "apology."

The President had been slumped backwards over the elaborately gilded wing-backed couch in his office, hanging down almost into Ren's lap as he launched into a sobbing diatribe on the woes of women in love and the extent to which they were willing to suffer, to be used, and to use others in the name of passion. "Oh, the exquisite agonizing bliss of not being able to capture the one you love!" His overly dramatic moans still echoed in Ren's head. To be fair, Ren had partially agreed to his request for the dinner tonight to stop the President's bleating.

But now he wasn't as sure that this was a harmless request. He had caught a glimpse of the President's eyes as he left and saw a suspicious glint in them. There was always a scheme with Takarada Lory, Ren knew, especially when it came to love. He shrugged on his dress shirt, slowly buttoning it up. He had thought at the time that his scheme was solely centered around the forbidden love of Kana and her erstwhile lover, but could he be wrong? Was there some angle in all of this aimed at... him? He examined himself in the mirror. Ren was tired. He smoothed his shirt over his waist with a sigh, mentally capitulating. Everything would blow over in short order. It had to.

_If only…_

If only he was meeting Kyoko tonight instead. Ren let his imagination roam as he stared at himself. Mirror Ren looked back, then waved at him, smiling with an almost teenage glee. He turned and left through the door out of Ren's bedroom in the back of the mirror. Ren closed his eyes and watched the rest unfold in his mind.

_Ren pulled up at the Darumaya ten minutes early, but somehow she was still ready before he got there, waiting outside in a short pink dress. The straps on her shoulders had tiny bows—perfect for untying later. Ren coughed, trying to stop his mind from going to inappropriate places for a first date. He got out of the car and walked around to her. She stood there, blushing and looking down at her shoes. He simply called her name, "Kyoko."_

_She looked up at him slowly, their eyes meeting for the first time that night. There was a new intimacy there, an understanding of what they were finally allowing to unfold between them. She didn't smile, just looked. "Ren," she simply replied. He felt his entire body light on fire at the sound of his name on her lips. He reached his hand out, and she placed her small hand inside. He couldn't resist rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. In a small way, they were joined together. He wasn't ever going to let go. He slowly brought her hand to his lips, placing a delicate kiss on the back. She flushed, but still didn't break eye contact. He led her to the car, then hesitated as he realized he would have to let go of her hand to walk around to the driver's seat._

_"_ _Let's walk," he offered, setting off south towards the main section of the city._

PING. His phone notification went off, interrupting his reverie. _Shit_ , he grumbled mentally. It was time to leave to for work. He adjusted his shirt one more time, seeing Mirror Ren back where he belonged. Miserable and alone. He turned and left his apartment.

Kyoko paced in Boh's dressing room at TBM. Collapsing into the arms of the giant chicken costume, Kyoko moaned. Being a chicken was easy – that characteristic at least came naturally! "Bok bok bok," she said to herself.

But now her lack of courage was threatening Momiji. Kyoko frowned at Boh, cupping her hands around his giant chicken cheeks. "I cannot fail her, Boh," she said softly, staring into his guileless eyes. Turning around to look at herself in the mirror, Kyoko commanded herself to feel the full spectrum of emotions that had risen in her since learning about Kana-san. She wanted to be a true actress. She needed to see – to study – to learn.

 _Uncertainty and self-doubt_. Kyoko remembered when her costars were talking about Kana-san and Tsuruga-san as a perfect match and demanded information from Kyoko. She saw her features fall, a small crease appearing between her eyebrows. Her eyes were moist and trembling, but no tears.

 _Denial and fear._ When his eyes had met hers in the LME hallway this morning, the rising tidal wave of fear that she felt at seeing him again had overwhelmed her. Somehow he would be able to read the darkness of her heart and see her despicable craving for him to leave someone who made him happy. Or worse, he would see why. So she had fled, running from the truth. In the mirror her eyes grew wide as her body tensed, her hands shaking at her sides.

Kyoko paused, unable to name the next emotion as concisely. _The way my heart gets tight when I think of Tsuruga-san with Kana-san._ She remembered the sight of Kana leaning up into Tsuruga's kiss and Tsuruga not pushing her away. Kyoko looked at herself as she let the memory replay. _So ugly_. Her jaw was clenched tight, shoulders drooped, head hanging. Her eyes looked up beneath her bangs full of anguish and loss. In a way, they resembled her uncertain face—but more intense, more defeated. She saw a single tear and slowly reached up to touch her face. Once, she had sobbed until her heart was breaking in Lory's office. Now, seeing the reality of that nightmare – Tsuruga-san, happy with another woman – she was all bottled up. Would she ever be able to let this loose?

Kyoko let her hand fall. Time to continue. What must Momiji feel?

 _Possessiveness._ Kyoko closed her eyes and remembered Momiji. Shizuma was her lord. She had known him, followed him, spent her entire life by his side. He was hers to protect. The gods had chosen her to be his kunoichi. When she opened them, she saw a deep light in her eyes. No smile, no grace. A solid jaw, staring eyes, and flared nostrils. She was determined and knew what she want. _And that woman will never have it._ A small smile crossed her lips, never reaching her eyes.

 _Anger._ Kyoko bared her lips slightly, remembering when Chidori had fallen, twisting her ankle while they were merely hiking through the forest. How was such a useless person ever to raise her lord up? She could only drag him down. Her eyes slanted, closing slightly as she considered the burden that woman was to her lord. She was holding him back.

 _Love._ Kyoko paused. Love. How would Momiji show… love? She was stuck. She shook her head, trying to clear it, but no ideas came. She tried a few faces. A soft smile quickly turned into a grimace as Momiji got queasy just looking at herself. Puckered lips just made Momiji laugh bitterly. Doe-eyes? Momiji wanted to smack herself.

Kyoko sighed. Well, this would have to do. She had learned enough to satisfy Producer Kuresaki tomorrow she hoped, as she turned off the lights and went to sleep.

The next day Kuresaki-san was indeed pleased with Kyoko's Momiji. There was a new hardness to her, an edge she had been missing in her interactions with Chidori. It was the fire he had seen possible in her audition and he knew Kyoko had the key now. He didn't offer any praise, merely nodded at her before their lunch break. Kyoko beamed and bowed. _Not a single NG!_ She ran to her dressing room to change, texting Moko as soon as she was out of her ninja outfit.

-YOU ARE A GENIUS! BEAUTIFUL AND SMART AND MY SAVIOR!—

-So I guess today went better on set?—

-YES MOKOOOOO THANKS TO YOUUUUU—

-All well with Momiji?—

-Well, mostly… still one thing left to figure out. But thanks to my best friend in the whole world, I know what to do!—

-And Tsuruga-san?—

-MOKO!—followed by an entire train of melting sad faces.

Kanae didn't reply. Kyoko closed her phone and ran to meet Yashiro-san down the street for their weekly lunch, ready to take notes.

"How has the first part of your week been, Kyoko-chan?" Yashiro asked as they settled in with their meals.

"Oh, good! I had some issues figuring out Momiji's character at first, but I think I was able to work it out! I just have one piece to her that I can't quite master. But we haven't filmed any scenes involving that portrayal yet, so I've got a little time to practice!" Kyoko was cheery and optimistic, beaming at Yashiro.

"That's good. It's important to keep self-reflecting as an actress. Is it an emotion you've felt before? Maybe even in a slightly different way. Sometimes a little tweak to an emotion is easier than a total creation," Yashiro offered, rephrasing advice he'd heard Ren give out on set to junior actors.

"Well, I'm not sure. I tried last night, but I may need some help. Someone to observe. Kotonami has given me some good ideas, so please don't worry. I will figure it out and will not bring you shame as your charge!" Kyoko bowed her head slightly to Yashiro who waved at her, trying to stop her.

"Kyoko-chan, calm down! I would never be ashamed of you. Let's just eat, then we will go over your schedule." Yashiro's mind was spinning with a delicious possibility. Who was Kyoko's favorite person to practice acting with, after all? He giggled, pulling out his cell phone to send Ren a text.

Kyoko made it home after a full day of filming. She had a few afternoon NGs, but was able to reframe her emotions each time for the very next shot and even Kuresaki remained appeased. She stretched as she parked her bike, rubbing her back. It was fun to be able to ride her bike again, but she did miss the luxury of just sitting and chatting with Yashiro-san. Rubbing her eyes, she headed around to the front door to say hello to the Darumaya's owners before heading to bed.

"Mogami-san?" A familiar voice called from the front step of the restaurant.

Kyoko froze.

"Mogami-san, is that you?"

Kyoko squeaked, covering her mouth. "Tsu-Tsuruga-san? What are _you_ doing here?!"


	4. Sempai, Mentor, Friend

Ren had gotten Yashiro's text at 1:07 P.M. and had immediately cancelled all his plans for the rest of the day.

-Kyoko-chan needs your help practicing acting—

A simple message. So simple. His heart rate quickened as he remembered one of the times they had practiced together, alone in his apartment. Ren had ended up on the floor with her, his arms around her, face inches away from her, asking to kiss her. "Why did I even ask?" he muttered, running his fingers over his lips. He let himself remember the way she tasted in Guam, so fresh and sweet. He licked his tongue over his lips, biting his bottom lip in frustration. Ren looked at his watch. 1:15 P.M. He had no idea what time she would be off, so he just packed up and headed to the Darumaya now.

Four hours later, he saw her bike fly by to the back of the Darumaya in a blur. Only Kyoko could ride through Tokyo at that breakneck pace and not end up in a messy pile of limbs and metal. His legs ached from standing and waiting but his heart nearly pounded out of his chest as he saw her drawing nearer in the dusky light. He cleared his throat and called out to her, "Mogami-san?" He clearly startled her. "Mogami-san, is that you?"

"Tsu-Tsuruga-san? What are _you_ doing here?!" Kyoko cried.

Ren stood very still. He didn't want to scare her away. He wasn't sure why he felt like she was a frightened animal, but he didn't care—he just needed time with her.

"Just… here to see a friend?" Ren offered, shrugging. He wasn't sure if he should tell her Yashiro texted him about Momiji or not. He wanted her to tell him herself, to share her problems and be vulnerable. God, he didn't deserve her trust he knew. But that selfish part deep inside him wanted it anyways.

Kyoko's eyes fell. _A friend. Always a friend._ She sighed. Well, at least they had that. Surely if he was here it meant Kana was okay with it. She could just relax and enjoy seeing him. Just stop the drama and the practice and the worry and really… just be friends. Kyoko walked over to Tsuruga-san. She sat down on the Darumaya porch step and he sat down beside her, his long legs bending slightly awkwardly before settling into a ease-filled stretch. He leaned back on his arms, considering her. She looked beautiful in the lamplight. Her hair was burnished a deeper gold, her eyes glowing amber. Her skin was so fair, so smooth. His hand itched to touch her but he held back.

"How's everything going?" he asked. "I haven't seen you in a few days. You've started shooting Momiji's role, right?"

Kyoko rubbed her face, mussing her bangs. Ren was dying to brush them out of her face. He sat on his hand.

"Yes, Tsuruga-san," Kyoko began. She paused as if she wasn't sure how to continue, fidgeting in place. She looked everywhere except at his face. "I've had a few hiccups, but it's going fine."

Ren visibly wilted. She wasn't going to share with him. _Fine_. _I'll make you._ "Yashiro told me that you had some acting difficulties."

Startled, Kyoko turned and stared at him. "Yashiro-san sent you?"

Ren looked bashful. "Yes- well, no. He just told me you had a question about Momiji. Coming here to see you—that was just my idea."

Kyoko's face fell slightly even though she was clearly trying to smile at him. He couldn't decide if she looked pleased or disappointed. He felt a growing need for her to care about their time together beyond just acting. But her acting was what had thrown them together in the first place, and he took seriously his responsibility to train her as a kohai. Especially since it offered so many opportunities to be with her.

"Well, I've mostly figured her out," she finally offered. "Kanae helped me a lot. She's absolutely wonderful!"

 _Kanae?_ Ren winced. Always before, Kyoko had turned to him first. Now, she hadn't even wanted to tell him about this issue. She even chose another person to seek advice from instead of him. He had to at least get back into his first-place sempai position. Maybe he couldn't have her heart, but he wanted at least part of her mind.

"What is the remaining problem? I know I can help you with whatever it is. I'd love to help," he offered, turning his brightest smile at her. The porch seemed to glow in an unnatural sunrise as he looked at her. Kyoko shaded her eyes. His genuine smiles were the most deadly weapons in his arsenal, far more frightening than the gentlemanly smile of doom. When he smiled angrily at her, she knew the worst that could happen was she was going to die. When he smiled like this at her… she felt herself losing her very soul.

"Tsuruga-san, thank you, but I don't think… I don't think you're the right person to help me with this," Kyoko said, struggling to get the words out and avoid his gaze.

Ren's smile shifted, getting more ominous and angry moment by moment. _Why does she have to keep refusing me? I just want to help!_ "Oh? Then, may I ask, who is going to?" He leaned in close and Kyoko shivered. She could feel the air around them change as his smile metamorphosized.

She turned to speak – "Maybe Kog-AAHH!"

Ren was so close. When she turned her head, their noses almost touched. She felt his breath on her face, warm and fresh. His dark eyes glistened in the dim light, his mouth curled in a devious smile. She bit her lip and his eyes darkened, narrowing as he watched her closely. Her breathing increased. Why wasn't he moving? He shifted his weight, freeing his hands to place them on either side of her and hold himself perfectly still, surrounding her with his presence.

"Maybe… who?" he whispered.

Kyoko couldn't think. She didn't even remember what they were talking about. The only thought in her mind was _close-close-close-close_ on rapid repeat as her body reacted involuntarily to him. Goosebumps on her arms, heart hammering, mouth dry. Kyoko swallowed and reached up to brush her bangs out of her eyes, trying to break his spell. Her arm brushed his on the way – hot and hard – and she froze again before she even reached her bangs. Ren gently took her raised hand in one of his and placed it in her lap before raising his own hand again and softly, tenderly brushing her bangs aside.

"Maybe… I can," he whispered in her ear. "What part of Momiji are you missing?"

"L-l-lo-" Kyoko stammered.

Ren blushed. If she was about to say what he thought, _please GOD let her say it_ , he would move any mountain necessary to be the one who taught her this missing emotion.

Kyoko stopped. "No. No! This isn't right. You—have another priority now. You shouldn't be teaching me things about… about relationships." Kyoko steeled herself. He had Kana, and she wasn't going to be an immoral woman and even suggest he cross a line by teaching another woman about love. "It isn't necessary, I need to surmount this on my own."

Ren growled, wanting to push her down on that porch and force her to see how much he needed her but instead shoving himself backwards, away with his palms. "Is this about Kana-san? Mogami-san, you know I—"

"No, Tsuruga-san, stop. I don't want to hear it. It's not necessary." Kyoko stood up. "Good night," she said, closing the door to the Darumaya in his face. Inside, she braced herself against the door. _I don't want to hear it. Seeing it in print was one thing. Hearing him tell me himself… I may break. I will break._ She grasped at the rough wood at the door, turning to face it. She wanted to see him, wanted to practice like they used to, wanted to be close. Wanted to be… friends. But now, would they even be able to be that? Could she really be his friend and refuse to ever speak to him about his closest relationship? Kyoko sagged. She let her palm linger on the door, wishing it lingered on his chest like Kana's did. Sighing, she turned and went upstairs. "Maybe Koga is the right person to ask…" she murmured as she went up.


	5. Scientific Research

Ren stood on the doorstep, his hands slowly clenching into fists. He needed her to listen to him. Even if the rest of the world didn't know, _she_ needed to know. He raised his fist to pound at the door and force her to come out but stopped just short. _One more night._ Tonight, he had the meeting with Kana. He would make it clear with her tonight and then come to Kyoko as a free man, with Kana's permission to share the full reason for her forced kiss. He unwound his fist and placed his palm on the door. _One more night, my beloved. Forgive me for one more night._

Kyoko paced in her room. Momiji was unfinished, Kanae couldn't help her with the last piece, and she certainly couldn't figure it out herself. They were both LoveME members for a reason, after all! She gritted her teeth. Koga-san was the next best choice, but his attitude towards her had always been so dismissive. He wouldn't just help her, she was sure. He seemed like he enjoyed taunting her – it must be because he had seen through the holes in her Momiji already. "Gaaaaaah!" Kyoko mussed her hair up, turning to the mirror. How could she ask Koga-san to help her when he probably already looked down on her for not understanding her character? Asking for help would just lower her even farther in his estimation. She leaned forward, willing her reflection to come up with an answer.

Her reflection just stared back, hair a mess. She reached up to brush her bangs out of her face. Her face flushed as watching the movement conjured up a replay in her mind of Tsuruga-san's movement earlier. _Just so, he did it,_ she thought as her hand subconsciously repeated the action, trying to mimic his exact motion. She flushed. She let her imagination run free for once, staring at herself in the mirror. The door behind her reflection opened and in walked Tsuruga Ren's reflection. He walked straight up to her and, reaching around from behind, slowly brushed her bangs out of her eyes, tucking the longest strands behind her ear. His hand lingered at her ear, caressing her lobe. He was staring at her and she closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. He spread his fingers wide, holding her whole face as she tucked into him, snuggling. He lightly brushed his forefinger against her lips and she felt her heart rate quicken. "Kiss me…" she whispered.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Kyoko's head snapped up. Nothing but air surrounded her, but she did a quick 360 fly-swatting motion, leaping in circles as she beat at the air. "EHHHHHHHHHH!" Kyoko raced around her room, arms flailing as she whacked everything and nothing. She fell onto the bed and convulsively wrapped the covers tight around her, pulling them closer and closer until nothing but her nose showed. Not even her lips. Especially not her lips. Treacherous, treacherous lips. That mirror was clearly possessed. She reached a trembling hand out, eyes squeezed shut inside her blanket burrito, feeling around rapidly for her supplies. She found her pouch and whipped it into the covers with her. Safe inside, she sorted through and found her black candle and matches.

She leapt out, flying across the room to stand akimbo in front of the mirror. She gave one great yell, "BE CLEANSED!" and lit the candle, holding it directly at her reflection in the mirror. She took a step forward, yelling again, "BE FREED!" A final step and she held the flame touching the mirror, it's heat making a small black soot mark on the spot where her face showed. "BE PURE!"

Kyoko's hand shook as she lowered the candle. She couldn't see her face anymore because of the black spot. "Perfect," she sighed, wiping her hands. She didn't need to see her face. Makeup done by her changed very little about her meager appearance, so no cause for fuss.

Kyoko sat down on her destroyed bed. She hung her head in her hands. Cursed mirror or not, her original problem remained. Suddenly, she had inspiration. Perhaps… perhaps the mirror wasn't cursed, but was showing her what she needed to do to solve her problem! Kyoko's mind raced. She needed—she needed to _watch_ a couple in love to learn what it meant! That was what the mirror had been trying to show her. She had, after all, been merely watching Tsuruga-san and- and- herself. Kyoko shook her head. _Don't remember it, don't focus on the impure thoughts. Impure! Impure! Away!_ Kyoko batted at the air wildly as she focused in on the solution. Find a couple in love and observe them.

And, though she didn't really want to think about it at all, the only couple in love she actually knew…

Kyoko checked the photos Yashiro-san had sent her. _7:30 PM tonight, at Il Tornatierro_. She would find them there. Kyoko had five minutes to leave if she was going to beat them there. Not enough time to second-guess her decision. She frantically dug around through the mess her flailing tornado had made, looking for something with which to disguise herself. A blue ball cap and an oversized jacket surfaced first. She tugged them on and sprinted for her bicycle. Okami-san called out at her as she blew by, but Kyoko was too focused to hear her. "Kyoko-chan, that polite young man from your hometown left you a message!" Okami-san waved a piece of notepaper at her, the paper fluttering in the breeze her passage created. Sighing with a smile on her face - _that girl is such a whirlwind_ \- the Okami quietly went upstairs to leave the note on Kyoko's dresser.

Barely breathing hard, Kyoko whipped her bike into the alley next to _Il Tornatierro_. She pulled her baseball cap down a little farther, trying to make sure it shaded her eyes. Gold wasn't exactly a great color for anonymity. She sat on a bench at the edge of the sidewalk, unobtrusively watching the crowd moving along the street. Occasionally, a couple would break off to enter the restaurant. Finally, Tsuruga-san's white car pulled up to the valet parking. He emerged from the driver's side and walked around the car to open Kana-san's door for her.

The pair cut a beautiful picture. She wore a calf-length teal pencil skirt with a cream blouse tucked in to the slender waistband. A small chain inset with opals circled her waist, accentuating its daintiness. Her blonde hair was curled in long, loose waves. She bowed her head meekly, tucking her hair behind her ear as she accepted his hand up out of the sedan. Tsuruga-san was dressed in all black. He had changed from when she saw him earlier. A simple button-up black dress shirt, sleeves rolled partway up his forearms, and a pair of slim cut black slacks. He looked daring, lean, and fierce. She could hardly believe this was the same man whose reflection had so tenderly embraced her face— _WAIT NO, NOT SAME MAN PROGRAMMING ERROR CURSED MIRROR RECALL—_ Kyoko shook herself. She blushed profusely, thanking the stars above for the baseball cap hiding her bright red cheeks. She was even blurring imaginations with memory now. That was one strong curse! Kyoko grabbed her notebook from her oversized jacket pocket and tried to focus on distancing herself from him, analytically observing his and Kana's behavior for clues just as scientifically as she observed his physical stats for her dolls.

\- Female expects and waits for male assistance

\- Meek and demure actions

\- Male helps female with simple tasks like standing up from sitting in a car

\- Eye contact made often

Kyoko paused at the last one. Kana-san definitely looked at Tsuruga-san often. But could she call it "eye contact" if Tsuruga-san seemed to never look back at her? And the one time she noticed the pair truly locking eyes, he seemed to flinch and… snarl? Perhaps that was a sexually aggressive response? Kyoko had truly fallen into scientific observation mode by this point, tapping the pencil against her lips as she assessed the conundrum her large male specimen presented. She needed more data.

She shifted her position to angle herself towards the restaurant, looking through the large windows to see where the pair would be seated. The waiter gestured towards the rear of the restaurant but Kana-san seemed to disagree, shaking her head and motioning at the small sweetheart table in the window. _Surely Tsuruga-san won't want to be so exposed to the public?_ Kyoko thought, shocked that Kana-san would want the chance of luring in paparazzi. Tsuruga-san merely nodded, however, and the pair was led to the table in question.

Kyoko thought their decision absurd, but it definitely made her job easier. She wouldn't even have to relocate. The timeframe for discovery was shortened significantly now, however, as any minute the pair's dinner was likely to be interrupted by rabid fans. Kyoko added some scribbles to her pad.

\- Female seeks special attention, for both self and relationship

\- Male prefers to pacify female over self-preservation

\- Intimate settings on public display top priority

Nodding, Kyoko looked back at the couple. Kana-san had her arm stretched across the table to Tsuruga-san's side, her fingers lightly tracing the back of his hand. Kyoko watched Tsuruga-san closely. Did he look queasy? Perhaps he was hungry. _No, that's not right. He's never hungry._ Perhaps then he was getting sick? He certainly looked a little pale. Maybe that was just his choice of a completely black outfit though.

\- Female aggressively seeks physical touch

\- Male allows touch

Kyoko frowned. That didn't seem quite right. "Allows?" she said aloud, questioning her choice of words. She looked back at the pair. Tsuruga-san still hadn't moved his hand. He definitely wasn't initiating any further intimacy, but neither was he brushing her hand off. Allows was a good word choice after all. _But this doesn't seem to match up with how Shizuma-sama reacts to Chidori._ Kyoko looked back at Tsuruga-san.

He was standing now, beside the table. She had missed the cause because of her notes! This could have been a crucial understanding for her research! She stood, trying to get a better view of Kana-san. Kana-san stood as well, tracing her hands along Tsuruga-san's shoulders. Tsuruga-san averted his gaze from Kana-san, looking out at the street. He moved his hands up to intercept Kana-san's hands when his eyes locked with Kyoko's.

 _CRAP._ Kyoko spun and sat on the bench. _CRAP CRAP CRAP._ She stuffed her notebook in her pocket and stood, trying to nonchalantly speed-walk to her bike in the alley. He couldn't have recognized her. Just a quick glance. Not possible to recognize her. She made it to the alley and was about to hop on her bike when two large hands grabbed her shoulders, spinning her and pinning her to the wall.


	6. Learning Together

_RUN!_ Kyoko panicked, flailing at her attacker and trying to scratch anything—everything to get some room and escape. She cried out but a large hand covered her mouth, the arm leaning against her to hold her body still.

"Mogami-san," the man calmly said, his voice dangerously low. "How… unexpected… to meet you here."

Kyoko's eyes slowly focused. Six inches away from her face was Tsuruga-san's face. His palm fit snugly against her mouth. His eyes glared at her, filled with some emotion she couldn't name. She felt herself wavering. She was going to pass out.

"I-I-I…" she stuttered against his palm.

 _Ren, you are an evil, evil man,_ Tsuruga-san thought to himself. The feeling of her lips moving against his palm was erotic and he almost forgot he was dangerously close to committing a physical assault. _No, pretty sure I could be tried on this evidence alone._ He sighed and released her mouth but kept his arms on either side of her face. She would have to duck under and around him to escape.

Kyoko felt his grip relax and her knees buckled. Ren thought she was about to escape just as he had imagined and grabbed her by the waist, holding her up. "Oh, no you don't. You aren't leaving here until you tell me _exactly_ why you were watching me."

Too shaken to think of a lie, Kyoko blurted out the truth: "To learn about love."

Ren was shocked. His mind stopped functioning for a brief moment as he stared at her. He kneaded his hands against her waist involuntarily as he processed. "Love…? By watching Kana and I?" _Oh god, how deep does her misunderstanding go? If I had known, I would've banged down that Darayum-a door to hell with consequences._

Kyoko was rattling off a confusing battery of reasons and apologies while he processed. "I'm so sorry, I should've asked your permission, you see I don't really know many couples, not any actually really, except for the ones people are acting and, I'm really sorry, it's so shameful, but I wanted to learn from something real, and I saw your interview and I just thought maybe since it was always you who taught me then I could still learn from you since Kana and you and it was a poor thought and a poor plan please excuse my inattention and I'm so sorry I interrupted—"

Ren placed his hand back over mouth before she said anything more. "So," he replied, his voice hoarse. "You followed me because you need to learn about love? By watching lovers?"

Kyoko merely nodded, her mouth held shut. She watched his eyes as he slowly transformed. She squeaked against his palm as she recognized him. The Emperor.

"Mogami-san…" he whispered, leaning in even closer. "If you wanted to watch lovers, we can just find a mirror." Kyoko jumped – _HE KNOWS ABOUT THE MIRROR!_ She smacked his hand away with a sudden unexpected force and leapt onto her bike.

Ren reached out to grab her but froze when she shouted, "CURSED MIRROR!" giving her just enough time to pedal away at lightspeed. He was left standing in the alley with his hand outstretched, completely confused and with a noticeable hardness in his dress slacks from the feeling of her lips on his palm. He leaned against the brick wall. He needed to calm down before he went back to face Kana.

Kyoko pedaled from one end of Tokyo to the other. Twice. _What have I done what have I done what have I done!_ He caught her stalking him! What would sempai think of her now? And he even knew about the cursed mirror! Perversion upon perversion! She could never return to the Darumaya tonight. She had to find a way to get rid of that mirror before she went back.

She pulled over and got out her cell phone. Moko would help her. Moko would put her up. She called her best friend. "Ahh! Moko-san, you have to help meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—can I come stay at your place tonight?" Moko's reply was garbled by the sudden screams of delight surrounding her as her family members accidentally caught enough of her request to understand that Kanae's friend was coming for a sleepover. Kanae's shouts of anger rang in Kyoko's ear and she held the phone away, cringing.

"MO! NO! NEVER!" Kanae huffed.

"But Moooookoooooo I need to see you tonight, and I can't go back home right now," Kyoko whined.

Kanae wouldn't budge. Under no circumstances was she EVER bringing a friend home for a sleepover again. She wouldn't dare give her annoying little siblings a reason to attack her with their "love." Stupid love. "I said no, mo. But," Kanae sighed, "if you find a hotel or something, I will come and split the cost with you. We can have a…" Kanae cringed. She couldn't believe she was about to say this, but she felt bad somewhere inside for refusing her friend a sleepover and knew this would make it up to her. "…a girls' night."

Kanae nearly went bald from the force of the audio waves screaming out the cell phone at her. She just shut the phone, hanging up on Kyoko. She sent her a message. -Don't overreact. Just tell me where.-

Kyoko spun in happy, delicate circles around her bike, flowers sprouting in her imagination all over Tokyo. _A girls' night with my best friend!_ She beamed at passerby, "A girls' night!" One man leered at her and she flushed, hopping on her bike and riding away. Stopping at a park, Kyoko once again pulled out her phone to research hotels that were quality but on the cheap. She and her best friend -squeaaaaal!- needed to save some money on the room to buy supplies for girls' night! Like nail polish and chocolate ice cream! Kyoko almost fainted from joy. She found the perfect place two miles away and clicked "Reserve" on the hotel website. The site wanted her credit card information to hold the room. She dug in her pocket. No wallet. She tried the other pocket. No wallet.

Frantic, Kyoko took off her jacket and flapped it around upside-down. No wallet fell out. She searched the entire bike. No wallet. _It was in her room._

She couldn't go back. She couldn't face that cursed mirror. Not yet. _What to do what to do what to do._

Kyoko called the only other person she could think of who could solve problems like this. "Yashiro-san? I have a very odd request to make… could we have a girls' night at your house?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a lovely lemon interlude, check out Every Move You Make-Makes Me Want You Ch 6. I have put citrusy alternate scenes for certain tantalizing Every Move You Make storylines in this side story! There will always be an author's note to let you know. This one starts right after Ren-kun suggests finding a mirror. ;-) Adding the scenes doesn't change the storyline, but it CERTAINLY changes the rating! ;-D


	7. Girl's Night with Yuki

Yashiro sputtered. He had raced out of the shower, throwing his special glove on along the way, when he heard Kyoko's ringtone. She never called him at night and he knew something terrible could have happened. Especially when Ren running around with that woman...! But never in a lifetime did he expect the call would lead to an invite to host a girls' night.

Ren has finally broken poor Kyoko-chan's wits. Either that, or Kyoko didn't see Yashiro as a man and just wanted to relax? Yashiro frowned. Neither was a good option.

"Ah, Yashiro-San? If it's not okay, Kanae and I can try and find another place. It's just I don't have my wallet and I can't go home right now, so we are in a bit of a pickle," she winced. She should just suck it up and go destroy the mirror herself.

Yashiro chuckled. This girl was so innocent. She really was just looking for a place to stay with her best friend. "Ah, sorry? No, no it's okay, please come here. My address is..." Yashiro gave her basic walking directions to his home, inviting her to come anytime. He set the phone down and looked around. Thankfully he was a fastidious man in both professional and personal matters, so there wasn't any last minute cleaning to do. Perhaps he should make a snack? He started to walk to the kitchen and remembered he had only a towel on. "Change first!" He hustled back to the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, Kyoko and Kanae arrived together at Yashiro's apartment complex. Kyoko fingered the directory, trying to find Yashiro's call button. "Kyoko-Chan, I thought you said we were staying with a friend of yours. Have you never been to her place before?" Kanae asked.

"Oh, no, I haven't. Yashiro-San hasn't ever invited me before tonight." Kyoko nonchalantly replied, finding his name and pushing the button.

"Yashiro? As in Yashiro Yukihito?!" Kanae's eyes bulged. "But, Kyoko-chan, he's a man!"

The call button's intercom connected just as Kanae spoke. The girls heard a short chuckle, then Yashiro's voice rang out with a metallic tint. "Yes, I'm glad you noticed Kotonami-san. But I'm not against participating in a girls' night now and again, if it's for a close friend. Please come up, Kyoko-chan and Kotonami-san." The buzzer sounded and the doors unlocked. Kyoko smiled and headed inside. Kanae paused, inspecting the building as if it held clues to its tenant's intentions, before slowly following Kyoko.

Yashiro greeted them warmly at the door, wearing a pair of slim cut track pants and a simple white t-shirt. Kyoko stared, not answering his cheerful, "Welcome, ladies!"

"Yashiro-san, your— your— where are your normal clothes? Where are your glasses?" Kyoko gasped, suddenly unsure she had made the right call.

Yashiro burst into a belly laugh. "Normal clothes! Hah, Kyoko, these _are_ my normal clothes!" He held his stomach as he laughed, realizing the girl had never seen him outside of his Impeccable Manager-Sama routine. "Surely you don't think I wear suits even at home?" Kyoko just blinked, trying to merge the Yashiro-san she knew with the athletic-wear model in front of her. His chest muscles showed under the white t-shirt in a way they didn't through his suits.

Kanae huffed and gently moved her friend aside. "Yashiro-san, nice to see you again. Please excuse my friend. She seemed to think it was appropriate for us to stay at your house tonight, which I can assure you it is not. We will leave now. We are sorry for the inconvenience."

"Kotonami-san, now now," Yashiro patted the air. He smiled gently. "I understand Kyoko-chan needed a place to stay. Since you are here too, it's perfectly proper. And besides, I've been looking forward to it and prepared some small snacks. Surely you won't let my preparations go to waste?"

Kanae glared at him. He had left her no choice. She really didn't want to stay here tonight, but her alternative was to be rude to him. He had never once insulted her or even made her uneasy, so she had no reason to offend him. She begrudgingly nodded and followed him inside as he turned to lead them forward.

Kyoko stayed in the hallway for a heartbeat until her spirit felt the separation between her and her Best Friend In The Whole World and she sprinted after Kanae. "Moko-san! Moko-san, I'm sorry I wasn't more clear, I know Yashiro-san so well and he's always been such a help. Moko-san, we can leave if you want to…" Kyoko trailed off. Her friend was already seated at Yashiro's island counter, munching on sliced citrus fruits. Kanae gestured over her shoulder at Kyoko, not answering her. Kyoko ran forward to her and plopped in the seat next to her. "So, we can stay?" she looked at Kanae. Kanae didn't answer, just kept eating fruit. "So… we can stay?" Kyoko repeated, this time looking at Yashiro-san.

"On one condition, Kyoko-chan," Yashiro said, peering at her. "Please don't be so formal with me. If we are close enough for you to crash here, we are close enough for you to call me Yukihito-kun."

Kyoko grinned broadly. "Yes, Yukihito-kun!" Yashiro smiled, but his inside twisted slightly on behalf of his charge. _Now it really will be everyone but him… wonder how he will react?_ Yashiro shrugged in his head. Maybe it will lead him to desperate action—like figuring out a way to get Kyoko-chan to stay at _his_ house. He giggled aloud and Kanae looked at him weird. Coughing to cover his giggle, Yukihito offered the girls soda drinks.

Before long, the trio were chatting amiably, discussing and laughing about everything from Kyoko's latest guest actor on Yappa Kimagure Rock to Kanae's new potential job in America. Yukihito had discovered both girls loved trivia games and suggested they move to the living room to play one.

Kanae and Kyoko grabbed the snacks while Yukihito ran to his room to get the game. He was actually enjoying himself. Never had he hosted a party before at this house; he simply didn't have the time to pursue a social life outside of work. In fact, Ren was the only one who had ever come over, and that was usually only briefly to coordinate a ride somewhere or pick up an overnighted script. But tonight, his house was full of chat and laughter – and he loved it. _Maybe we can do this again,_ he mused. _And next time not call it a girls' night._ He snorted aloud. Girls' night with Yukihito. _Oh well,_ he shrugged. _Not like either one is a romantic interest. Though Kanae definitely deserves the praise Kyoko lavishes on her for her beauty._ "Got the game, ladies!" he called, heading back out into the room.

Kyoko had ensconced herself on his plush rug, noshing on banana chips. Kanae sat on one end of the small couch, sipping her diet soda. They both looked up when he came in, smiling at him. Yukihito made eye contact with Kanae and smiled broadly. She was certainly a beautiful young woman, with her long dark hair and perfect cream-colored skin. He let his eyes wander briefly as he walked over. Her whole figure was just perfect, too, wasn't it? First time he'd really looked at her – Kyoko was usually so overwhelmingly _alive_ that Kanae wasn't as noticeable.

Kanae noticed his regard and straightened. She could control her blushes just like she could control her tears. She breathed deeply and kept her heart rate low, reducing the blood flow to her face. _He needs to stop looking at me_ , she thought, _it isn't proper. Especially not with those caramel eyes._ Kyoko was squealing and bouncing on the floor, excited for the game and oblivious to the brief interchange between her friends.

Yukihito sat the game down on the table and considered where to sit. He could sit on the floor with Kyoko, or share the small couch with Kanae. _Ren would definitely prefer me to sit with Kotonami-san_ , he smirked. He edged around the table and sat next to Kanae. She watched him silently, taking a single sip from her diet soda. She stretched to sit the soda down and used the movement to edge slightly farther towards the end of the sofa. Yukihito smiled again, merely saying, "Shall we begin?"

They played one round at a time, taking turns asking each other questions and vying to be the first to answer correctly. Kyoko's wild guesses when she didn't know an answer made Yukihito and Kanae bust into laughter each time; his laugh fast and low, hers sweet and soft like singing. She loved the way their laughter melded and got sillier as they played, starting to act out guesses like Bo the Chicken. The game dissolved into belly-laughs, Kanae and Yukihito collapsed into each other on the couch as Kyoko strutted around pretending to be Hannibal the Great and his pet elephant simultaneously.

"Ahh, ah, ah, Kyoko-chan, stop! Stop, I can't- I can't breathe-" Yukihito gasped between laughs. Kyoko swung to face them, her features fierce and cheeks puffed out as she imitated the Carthiginian general. "Taroooot!" she called, "Hush, Elephanto, these infidels are trying to halt our triumphant march!" Kanae gasped for air, waving mutely at her friend in supplication. Kyoko beamed. This was the best night ever.

Later, Yukihito stepped into the kitchen to grab some more snacks while Kanae and Kyoko settled down to paint their nails. Yuki listened to their chatter and wondered if he could use this time to find out how Kyoko really felt about Ren… and the whole Kana mess. He really didn't want to mess up the mood though. Tapping his lips with his finger, he considered carefully. _Girls night_ , he thought, turning back to watch the pair.

"Got some more snacks," he called as he came back. The two girls smiled, thanking him. He settled down on the floor this time, leaning back on his hands as he munched on a rice snack. "If this is really a girls' night, let's play Truth or Dare!" he suggested, cocking his head and grinning widely.

Kanae stared at him. _Ridiculous man. Does he think we are seven-year olds?_

Kyoko screamed, sitting bolt upright and clapping jubilantly. "YESSSS!" This was just like in the movies! Girlfriends always play Truth or Dare! "Moko-san, Moko-san, you first! Oooooooooooooohhhh!" Kyoko was almost completely curled up in a ball but somehow her eyes still shone brightly, staring laser-beams of pure joy directly at her friend's heart.

"Mo, don't you think this game is a little—" Kanae began, but stopped herself as Kyoko seemed to grow a giant puppy dog tail and begin patting it in anticipation against the back of the couch. "Ahem. Yes. Ah, Truth?"

Yukihito clapped happily. _This was going to be FUN!_ "Kyoko-chan, you ask your best friend, your turn," he prodded.

Kyoko almost fell over off the couch. It was too much, too much. She got to ask Mokoooooooo her first truth question. "Aieeeeeeeee!"

"Kyoko-chan," Kanae scolded. "If you don't calm down, I am not playing."

"No! No, Moko-san, Moko-san, I'm just happy I'm fine I promise! Truth, umm—Moko-san, what do you love about your family?" Kyoko knew her friend's family drove her nuts, but she also suspected in her heart she truly loved them. Kyoko's eyes shone as she thought of Moko's family. _Warm and bright, full of laughter and joy and openness._ Everything she hadn't known.

Kanae's faced turned thunderous. "Kyoko-chan, that's not a good question. You're supposed to ask something interesting. I pass."

"Ah-ah, Kanae-chan, no passing on a Girls' Night," Yukihito teased. He had slipped her first name in there, waiting to see if she noticed. She looked at him sideways, but let it pass. _Yosh!_ Yukihito made a mental fist pump.

"That's right Moko-san! Girls' night special rules! You must answer!" Kyoko chimed in, eagerly hopping on Yukihito's suggestion.

"Mo! Unfair!" Kanae pouted. "I guess… how they alssssshhh…" she mumbled under her breath.

"Kanae-chan, speak up," Yukihito called. "We can't hear you!"

"How they… make sure I know they love me. Even if it's stupid annoying ways," Kanae grunted.

Kyoko melted off the couch into a blob. She sprang back up and clasped Moko's hands, smiling like a wildcat. "Kanae-chan, how special! What a gift! I love this gaaaaaaaame!"

"Mo! Enough! Your turn, Yukihito-san," Kanae brushed Kyoko's hands away, blushing and trying to move on as quickly as possible.

"Dare," Yukihito said bluntly, a glint in his eyes. It was Kanae's turn to lead, having just been questioned, and she stared Yukihito down. She wanted to stir him up some, to see what lay beneath his calm professional manager demeanor. She had to admit, coming over here tonight had been intriguing. _What to make him do…_

"Alright, Yukihito-kun," Kanae grinned. She had decided to go with making him look ridiculous. She wanted to see how he would react when he failed. "Do a headstand and sing _I Will Always Love You_ while upside-down." Kyoko gasped, clapping. She had never seen a headstand done in person before and it was like going to a circus.

"But, Moko-san, how do you know Yukihito-kun can do a headstand?" Kyoko asked eagerly.

"I don't, Kyoko-chan," Kanae smiled slowly, "but I want to see him try."

Yukihito smirked at her. _She wants to see me try? Let's give her a show!_ He stood up and bowed to the two girls, Kyoko clapping louder than ever and Kanae sitting back, folding her arms on her chest. Slowly, he reached his arms to the floor and then kicked his legs, one foot at a time, into the air. His stomach muscles tightened, gaining measured control over his lower body and raising it perfectly perpendicular to the floor. Kyoko gasped and Kanae leaned forward. "Yukihito-kun! You can do it!" Kyoko bounced on the sofa.

Yukihito breathed slowly in and out, picking up one hand and moving it a small amount then repeating the action until he was turned to face the girls, still upside down. His shirt had slipped down, revealing his abs. He saw Kanae's face, flushed and almost lost his balance when he realized she was staring at his rippling abdominal muscles. Kyoko was jumping up and down on the couch now, looking at his face and shouting encouragements. He started to sing, "And I, will always love you—oh I—" still looking at Kanae. Her pink cheeks were fascinating. Kanae felt his stare and tried to turn away but couldn't stop looking. His voice was so smooth, a bright tenor. She couldn't believe he could actually—suddenly Yukihito lost his balance and cried out as he crashed down onto the couch between the two girls.

Laughing, he righted himself and sank back against the couch, leaning his head to rest on the cushions between Kyoko's feet – still bouncing in excitement and chanting about his greatness despite the fall – and Kanae's tucked-in knees. He grinned broadly at her and she finally looked away. _Caramel…_ she thought.

Yukihito laughed, "Sorry for the tumble!" Then turned to sit facing them, leaning up against the table next to them. "Kyoko-chan, your turn."

"Ooh! Ooh… what to pick," Kyoko sat down, drumming her fingers. She wasn't really capable of a headstand, so – "Truth!" Yukihito did a mental victory dance. He had been hoping for that choice. It was his turn to lead, and he had his question ready.

"Kyoko-chan, if you had to choose any person to marry tonight, who would you choose? They can be single or taken," added Yukihito. Kanae frowned slightly. _Why on earth would he want to know this? He wouldn't have designs of his own on her? He's with Tsuruga-san all the time, surely he can see what even I've seen about them._

Kyoko stilled. "…marry?" She'd never ever considered marriage since Shotaro left her. The word left a heavy burden on her. Her shoulders sank. "Someone like me… shouldn't marry."

Yukihito skootched over closer to her, putting his hands on the couch. "Kyoko-chan, that's not true, you're a wonderful person," he said. "It's just a silly question, don't take it so seriously."

Kanae shook her head. "Kyoko-chan, you don't have to answer. You can pass."

"No! No, we are playing Truth or Dare with Girls' Night Special Rules; I can't pass! I can—I know—It's not a hard…" Kyoko trailed off.

"Just close your eyes and imagine. I'll help you out," Yukihito prodded. Kyoko hesistantly closed her eyes. She wasn't sure this was a good idea – her inner grudges were starting to nervously build a bonfire to burn all mental images – but this was her very first girls' night, her very first Truth or Dare with friends. She must not fail! She nodded briskly and Kanae and Yukihito could almost see her imaginary war band appear around her forehead.

"Imagine you're wearing a long white dress and waiting in a hallway," Yukihito spoke softly. He watched Kyoko closely. He really wanted to know her answer, but he also cared deeply about her and if this really was too personal a question for the #1 LoveME member, he was ready to back down immediately. She seemed eager, though.

Kyoko decided to let herself fully go. She was wearing a long, lacy white dress with a train that flowed all the way down the hall. Small pixies held up the train at the ends by tiny white rosebuds of lace. Her hair was long and brown again, curled elegantly and tied halfway up to cascade down her back, pearls and perfect white rosebuds sprinkled effortlessly throughout. Small fairy princesses carried a tiara towards her, floating on a cloud. Yukihito and Kanae looked at each other in wonder. "What is that weird smile she has on, Kanae-chan?" Yukihito whispered.

"Shh, it's better to just not ask," Kanae warned, waving him off. "Just keep going. She's in full Fairy Land right now."

"The doors slowly open to a larger room," Yukihito continued, his voice warm. He held eye contact with Kanae as he spoke. "All of your family and friends are there, smiling at you in wonder. You lower your eyes as the music swells, announcing your arrival." Kanae blushed, wishing he would look back at Kyoko—but unable to look away. Kyoko held her hands clasped around an imaginary bouquet. It had white lilies with diamond butterflies – real ones, of course, brought by the Fairy Queen just for her and lightly fluttering their wings – nestled in each lily's center. She bowed her head and smiled, breathing in the sweet scent of the lilies.

"You take your first step forward and hear a gasp from the front of the aisle. He's there, he's been there, waiting for you. He sees you and his heart falls in love all over again," Yukihito was almost whispering, leaning just slightly towards Kanae as he spoke. Kanae felt bewitched. What was this feeling? He needed to stop talking. _No,_ she thought, _he needed to never stop speaking. Ever._

"You raise your head and your eyes lock with his—your love," Yukihito paused, his eyes lingering on Kanae for a heartbeat longer before tearing himself away to look at Kyoko. "And it's—"

"Tsuruga-san…" Kyoko breathed, enraptured. He was so handsome. A perfectly fit gray tuxedo and pink tie, his hair combed back lightly like she had just run her hands through it and left it lie. He beamed at her, a genuine smile full of love and passion and acceptance. He reached his hand out, open palm waiting for her hand. Fairies danced as the sun shifted to shine down on him, making him glow.

Kanae gasped. She really did—him? She loved him! She threw her hands over her mouth, afraid to make another sound. But the sound of her gasp was enough to startled Kyoko out of her gaze and Kyoko's hands flew to her face. "Yukihito-kun! What did you—I didn't—I don't mean, please don't ever tell anyone!" Kyoko stood, a horrified look on her face, and ran into the kitchen. "I'm just going to, I mean, we're hungry, let's make a meal, I'll take care of it—" she rambled on, desperate to move on and forget her outburst.

Yukihito sat very still. It had actually worked. _I need to try this on Tsuruga-san._ He looked at Kanae. "Now… what to do about Kana-san and that idiot?"

Kanae just stared at him, then slowly broke into a devious smile. "Yes. What to do?"


	8. YashiNae Schemes

Kanae turned to look at her friend. Kyoko was preparing pineapple fried rice at the speed of light to cover her nervousness. _Where did she find all the ingredients?_ Kanae shook her head. More than one thing was borderline magical about Kyoko. She turned to look back at Yukihito. _And this man can play her like a maestro. I need to hold my guard around him._

Yukihito watched Kanae. Her face underwent the smallest of changes as her emotions changed. A slight pull up at the brows — confusion? The corner of her mouth twitched upwards— humor-tinted affection. She looked at him straight-faced, eyes becoming slightly steely. Caution. _Well that won't do,_ he thought. "I have a plan, Kanae-chan," he offered. "To help both Kyoko-chan and Ren-kun be honest." He snuck a peek at Kyoko, still busy at work in the kitchen. "I don't want to risk her overhearing." He stood up and gestures for Kanae to follow him, moving towards his bedroom door. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he challenged her in a brisk whisper: "Do you want her to know we are plotting together?" Kanae pouted her lips but stood and followed Yukihito.

Yukihito left the door behind them just barely ajar, so he could hear and make sure Kyoko was still cooking without her hearing their conversation. Thankfully, Kyoko was usually completely oblivious when she got into one of these moods. He knew he risked ending up with a four-course meal they had to eat tonight (and no groceries in his pantry), but this was crucial. _Besides, a moment alone with Kanae-chan..._ he knew his suggestion to meet together in his bedroom was inappropriate and was frankly shocked she had agreed. Either she really loved Kyoko and was willing to risk it— or she didn't mind what being alone together could possibly mean.

"Have you ever heard of the game Seven Minutes In Heaven?" he asked Kanae.

"What?! Yukihito-kun, I thought we were coming in here to plan, not to—" Kanae said, but Yukihito cut her off.

"Good gracious, Kanae-chan— not us! I'm not suggesting we play it! This... party tonight made me think of it. The principle behind it: force two people into close confines and they can't help but act upon their attractions, even if they won't admit those attractions," he explained, moving slightly closer to Kanae as he spoke. He really hadn't meant to suggest they play, but once the thought was spoken aloud he couldn't help thinking it would be a very, very fun game. Kanae saw his eyes shift to a more possessive gleam and swallowed hard. She stood straight, determined to stay on task.

"Interesting... how would that play out with the two of them?" Kanae asked, looking at the door out to the kitchen where Kyoko waited.

"If we forced them to be alone, maybe even trapped somewhere, don't you think one of them would lose control?" Yukihito's voice was lower and slightly rough. She looked up at him to see why and caught him staring at her lips. She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, biting it, instinctively trying to hide it from his view. He wet his own lips, mimicking her movement.

"Lose... control...?" she slowly spoke. Yukihito didn't answer; he just continued his slow movement forward, matching each of her steps backward with a step forward until the two of them were backed into a corner of his room. He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders, pinning her gently against the wall. His eyes were hooded and dark as he watched her chest rise and fall more and more quickly.

"May... I?" he asked. Kanae wasn't sure what he was asking for, but she nodded anyways. He swiftly bent his head forward and roughly kissed her, pulling one hand off the wall to wrap his fingers into her hair. She closed her eyes, not thinking about what was happening, just feeling. His smooth lips on hers, so hot and moist.

Suddenly Kyoko called out, "Moko-san? Yukihito-kun? Where are you guys? Dinner— or well, midnight snack, or whatever this is, it's ready! Guys?"

Yukihito and Kanae locked panicked glances. He flew off her. She gestured silently to him to leave first. Yukihito went through the door sideways, trying to hide his noticeable pants bulge from Kyoko. He didn't know how much she understood but knew he couldn't risk it. _Girl's night indeed_ , he thought.

"Wonderful, Mogami- ah, Kyoko-chan! I was just showing Kanae where the bathroom was," he gestured toward his room. "She'll be out in a moment I'm sure."

He walked away from Kyoko to the living room. "Let's eat here, I'll ah, I'll tidy up first. You just focus on the dishes, bring them in when you're ready."

Kyoko looked at him puzzled for a moment, but shrugged and turned to grab the dishes. Yukihito tried desperately to fill his mind with extremely unappealing images. _Fat, fat, fat old women. My grandpa's underwear. A sumo wrestler's athlete's foot._ He got himself under control just in time to help Kyoko set down her armfuls of dishes. Kanae also emerged then, pretending surprise at the finished dinner. She had taken time to splash her face with cold water and laid a wet, cold washcloth on her lips to reduce the swelling. She avoided Yukihito's gaze and focused on Kyoko.

"Kyoko-chan, this is delicious," Yukihito lauded, Kanae nodding in agreement. Her friend was so talented, in so many ways. She wasn't sure any man deserved her, much less such a terse, difficult man as Tsuruga Ren. But if Kyoko-chan truly loved him... she wanted her to be happy.

"Kyoko-chan," Kanae began hesitantly. "I know you don't want to talk about earlier. And we won't. But I want you to know we think you deserve love, and deserve the very best man. We are your friends, Kyoko, if you ever need... assistance... we will be happy to help." Kanae ended, feeling extremely awkward.

Kyoko was flushed red-hot. She never wanted to speak of what she had imagined ever again. But she knew these two were her very best friends. And... these were the sort of things you were supposed to figure out with friends, right? Kyoko looked at Kanae and Yukihito with pleading eyes. They seemed like they really felt like great friends too, sitting so closely and naturally together. Kyoko sighed. "I just," she paused, trying to find the words. She looked at Kanae and Yukihito again. "I want to be natural and close with Tsuruga-san like you two are."

Kanae and Yukihito both blushed immediately and sprang apart. "How did you— but you didn't— we aren't—" they talked over one another.

"Oh, I know it's different because you're such good friends now. I'm just saying you seem so at ease next to one another like that. I'm always just a big ball of nerves around Tsuruga-san," she sighed.

"Well, you know the cure for nerves like that is exposure," suggested Yukihito with dancing eyes.

Kyoko shivered as she imagined having to stand outside in winter and rain and blazing sun to quiet her heart. "Yes, I suppose that does make sense, it would probably work well."

Kanae smiled at Yukihito, nodding. Kyoko seemed ready to finally make a move. Yukihito smiled back, saying, "Then, tomorrow night, trust us and do what we say. We'll make sure you get enough exposure to cure your anxiety."

Kyoko felt her heart warm as she watched her two friends. They were going to help her quiet her heart about Tsuruga-san once and for all. She happily dug into her food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate side story for the Yukinae lovers in EMYM: Makes Me Want You! Thanks for the comments and ideas! BEST GIRLS NIGHT EVER.


	9. Joint Togetherness Task Force

Ren had stood alone in the alley for a matter of seconds before making a move. He stood to his full height, ran his fingers through his hair to comb it back, and straightened his clothes. Clasping his empty right wrist, he closed his eyes and took a moment to prepare himself. There was one woman he should be with, one woman he needed to chase after. And one other woman waiting for him that he needed _gone_.

He opened his eyes, a smoldering fire in their brown depths. For this exchange, Kuon would be taking control. Tsuruga Ren was too polite, too concerned with image to break up with Kana-san before resolving the remaining questions. Hizuri Kuon couldn't give a shit for her feelings. He knew she was a manipulative, scheming cougar who didn't deserve his time or his help in restoring her broken relationship. She had made the choice to kiss him – even to set up paparazzi in place, he was almost certain – and she would lie in the bed she'd made. Alone.

But first, he needed to make a phone call.

"Hello, can I speak to your entertainment section?" he said, waiting for the receptionist at _Boost_ _Magazine_ to connect him. "Yes, I have a hot tip. _Il Tornatierro_ Restaurant. I saw that Tsuruga Ren guy with a woman. No, they seemed angry."

Kuon silenced his phone and waited another minute before he strode into the restaurant. Kana saw him, immediately feeling the shift in his personality. Tsuruga Ren had never given off such a heady sexual drive before. She felt her pulse start to race just watching him walk over to her. The look in his eyes was almost predatory. _I wouldn't mind if he ate me up,_ she thought, _even if I do usually prefer women._ She tried to keep herself from licking her lips in anticipation. Such magnetism! His broad shoulders, his deep brown eyes, those long, tight legs ending in the most perfect butt she'd ever seen on a man. He reached the side of their table, remaining standing. Kana craned her neck to look up at him, uncertain but loving his vibe. _Maybe I'll convince him to do a threesome with us,_ she purred inside.

Kuon beckoned for a waiter. "Please bring the check," he said. He sat across from her, staring her down.

"This is enough, Kana-san," he said curtly.

Startled, she narrowed her eyes. "What are you implying, Ren-san?" _This isn't going where I expected,_ she thought in confusion.

"I will not be forced into anything," Kuon almost growled. He saw movement at the restaurant door in his peripheral vision and recognized the senior reporter from _Boost_ 's signature mask and cap. _That was fast. Excellent._ "Especially not when _you_ were the first to cross boundaries. When _you_ were the first to lie. When _you_ were the first to entrap me and force yourself on me. Kana-san, your actions at the bar were sexual harassment and forcing me to acknowledge them as anything other than that is nothing less than blackmail." He kept his stare on her the entire time he spoke, pinning her to her seat with his gaze. Kana shook with anger and fear.

"Nothing to say, Kana-san?" Kuon shrugged. "Dinner tonight is on me. Let's end this between us now. There's one reason – one woman—why my heart feels so warm now, and being here with you is forcing her away from me. I will not be trapped anymore," Kuon said, standing and tossing several large bills on the table for the check. He turned and left the restaurant. A camera flashed.

 _One woman who warms my heart_ , Kuon thought as he stalked out of the restaurant. _I need to see her. Now._ He texted Yashiro to get her schedule. _Now._

Yashiro Yukihito almost yelped when he got Ren's text. He and Kanae had just set up their plan to ensnare the two should-be love birds, and here Ren was unwittingly helping them. He poked Kanae with his elbow, silently showing her his phone while Kyoko noshed on pineapple fried rice in happy oblivion, still enjoying the idea that she had _two_ best friends working to help her overcome her personal issues. She hummed to herself, perfectly content.

Yukihito texted Ren back a detailed and absolutely correct schedule for Kyoko's day tomorrow, adding one item that hadn't actually been worked out with a photographer: an evening mountain shoot for a tourism company. He winked at Kanae and she smiled back, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. She could have held back that blush, of course, but she choose to let it be. Yukihito moved her, and she was thoroughly enjoying the sensation. She was certainly looking forward to their joint Tsuruga-Mogami Togetherness Task Force missions. She grimaced at herself as her brain chose a far too Kyoko-like name for the task force. _Why am I even calling it a task force?_ she groaned. She's been around Kyoko for far too long.

Ren sat in his car, cooled off from the encounter with Kana and reveling in his new freedom. His whole body hummed with a need to see Kyoko. He pounced on his phone when he heard Yashiro's notification go off. "Only items from tomorrow?!" he groaned. He wanted to see her tonight. He put the car in drive and headed to the Daruyama.

The Okami greeted him warmly at the door. "I'm sorry, Tsuruga-sama, but Kyoko-chan won't be coming home tonight. She's having a girls' night with Kotonami-san." She offered him some dinner, but Ren quickly excused himself, having just eaten. He moped in his car, shoulders drooped.

"Kotonami Kanae! Always Kotonami Kanae! Don't I ever get a moment of your time, Mogami-san? Why don't you ever spend time like that with me?" he slumped on the driver's wheel. He knew he was being absurd. She almost never took time off from working or school for anything, even a night with her best friend. And who was he to demand time over her best friend? He was just… her sempai. Tsuruga shrugged. Time to go home. He needed a drink. He would find her tomorrow. Or be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For atakamaryna1- good luck on your exam!


	10. The Rise of the Sex God

A buzzing noise cut through his dream. Ren waved his long arm out, trying to swat the offending bug. He missed and the buzzing continued. Ren groaned, burying his head in his pillow. The buzzing stopped for a moment— _sweet relief, I need more sleep_ — then came back. Ren growled and smacked at the side table where the buzz originated, awake enough now to understand the buzz was his phone but not enough to care. He had drank far too much bourbon last night trying to keep himself from running across the city looking for where Kotonami lived.

 _Kotonami._ Kyoko! Ren's eyes flew open. Did Kyoko call him? He grabbed his phone, unlocking it. Takarada Lory's private number blinked on his screen. "President?" he mumbled, rubbing his forehead. Ren dialed President Takarada's number.

"Ah, finally my boy! About time you woke up. You are close to losing your never-late Tsuruga reputation," Lory chuckled, a woman dressed in a sequin-bedazzled black ninja costume holding the phone to his ear as he did an inverted lotus yoga pose on his red velvet exercise mat. Thirty other ninja-garbed women, each in a different very un-ninjalike vibrant hue, circled him while dipping and turning in slow-motion martial arts moves. A gong suspended from the ceiling above sounded and Lory switched poses, the first ninja fluidly following him with the phone. Ren stood and walked to the bathroom, getting a drink of water from the sink. He heard the gong and smirked. He could only imagine the scene surrounding President. "Though your new Sex God reputation isn't a bad exchange," Lory continued. Ren spat the water out, spraying the mirror.

"What reputation?!" Ren said hoarsely, gripping the countertop. He knew conversations with the President could lead absolutely anywhere, but never had he expected... Ren coughed, unable to even voice the so-called "reputation" in his thoughts.

"That's right, my boy! I'm proud of you! I was expecting good things from you out of this Kana scenario," Lory said. Ren scowled. He knew the President had been scheming something when he simply acquiesced to Kana's manager's demand. "But this went beyond my hopes. I take it you haven't read _Boost_ yet this morning. Perhaps add a splash more of that bourbon you've been enjoying to your morning coffee before pulling it up," Lory said, laughing. He nodded at the sparkly black ninja and she hung up his phone. Yes, Lory was completely satisfied with his young charge. True, he had been hoping Ren would buck him at the beginning, proclaiming his undying affection for only one woman and rushing out the door to find her. But this was even better. Ren had taken things at his pace, and in his own way. Things would begin to move now. Plus, Lory chuckled, they'd been worried Tsuruga Ren would get stuck in a rut of a "nice, romantic male lead" and not be able to move past it. Katsuki had been a start, but with BJ's movie coming out soon and now SEX GOD TSURUGA plastered all over the internet - no fear of losing dynamism now! Lory laughed, throwing his hands into the air in a Warrior pose and shouting loudly at all his ninjas, "Dance! Dance, ladies, let us dance!"

Ren stared at himself in the mirror a heartbeat longer before hurriedly pulling up the _Boost_ homepage on his phone's browser. "Please let Lory be exaggerating... please let Lory be exaggerating..."

There it was, in bold across the top center just under the magazine title.

**SEX GOD TSURUGA FREED FROM SCHEMING KANA**

_Someone Won't Let Him Be Lonely Long!_

Ren moaned. He expected many, many things of the tabloids. Being called a Sex God wasn't one of them. "Where did you even GET that from what you overheard?" he moaned. And what was with that subtitle? He scrolled down.

"Ohhhh..." Ren grimaced at himself. He knew he had let Kuon out fully, but was that really what he looked like? There just beneath the headline was a full-color photo of him stalking away, Kana red-faced and scowling in the background. He remembered the moment clearly: his mind was completely consumed with finding Kyoko immediately. Even he couldn't deny the raw need blazing in his eyes. _I can't ever let her see that face... although if feelings of needing her are what bring out that face, she definitely saw it in our hotel room. More than once._ He winced. No wonder she was acting strange around him.

He read the article. He really, really didn't want to, but he needed to know what reception he was walking into this morning.

_**Premier First Hand Witness Account!** _

_I saw Tsuruga's eyes smolder as he stalked up to Kana-san. The man oozed sex, ladies, and from the look on Kana's face, she felt the pheromones too! But she was NOT his lucky lady that night— truth on the couple was revealed as Tsuruga Ren accused her of forcing a kiss on him and making sure it was public! Too scandalous to be true, right? But Boost always gives you nothing but the hottest news and this is NEWS! Our industry sources confirm that the photog on scene last week that caught their intimate embrace had been called by Kana's manager, and that she had initiated the earth-shaking public kiss. Tsuruga is dead-on! Scheming Kana wanted him for herself and went to desperate lengths to secure a man in her old age! Or was she aiming for someone else? You'll have to wait on next week's interview with her high school friends!_

_But can you blame Kana?! The way this man walked would open up any woman's legs! Two minutes in his presence and I'm ready to commit blackmail to get him on top of me! Tsuruga's righteous rage didn't prevent him from taking care of Kana as a gentleman — not in bed, sorry for her— but by paying in full for their meal despite her entrapment. What a man! Who will be his next victim? He sure looks like he's on the hunt for a hot fling! Keep tuned to Boost— we've got all the first scoops!_

"On the hunt?!" Ren groaned. Wasn't the reporter they sent a man? What was with this article? He closed his eyes, almost feeling physical pain from the story. _I have got to find Kyoko today before she reads this._ If she felt... betrayed... he felt nausea rise as he heard the word echo in his thoughts. "If she felt betrayed before, this new Sex God crap... ughhhh," he groaned, throwing his phone on the bed and racing to get ready.

"At least Kana has been exposed," talking to the empty passenger seat to comfort himself. "Kyoko will just focus on that part right? Definitely, right." He winced. He knew the words were completely empty. He had to find her and explain before she filled her head with even more unfounded ideas. Ren checked their schedules from Yashiro. He had half an hour before his first script reading; just enough time to swing by her Box R shoot.

Tires screeched as he pulled a Katsuki move and hard-drifted into a parallel parking spot in front of the production company. He jumped out and slammed the door, taking giant strides towards the entrance. _Fifteen minutes left_ , he counted down. Suddenly a camera flashed and he cursed under his breath.

"Tsuruga-san! Tsuruga-san!" Three reporters clamored over, standing directly in front of the double doors leading inside.

"Please move, I have an appointment. I have no comment," he said briskly.

"Tsuruga-san, what's the rush? Tell us about that fancy parking job! You must be here to see someone special- is it Kana's replacement?" the reporter asked, almost rabid in his attempts to shove a tape recorder in Ren's face.

Ren paled slightly. "Kana's replacement?" He wanted to chuck those words back at the man, to shove down his throat how special, how beautiful, how amazingly, refreshingly different Mogami Kyoko was— but the words died in his throat. He couldn't let them know he was interested in Kyoko. _Sex God pursues 17-year old minor._ He could just see the next headline. He steeled his face and calmly addressed the reporter.

"No, sir, I am not meeting a woman. My manager set up a script delivery for me here. Please move," he said, gently pushing the men aside. They followed him inside. He went to the receptionist and chatted with her briefly, then nodded and turned to leave.

"No script? No script Tsuruga-san? Was it a woman after all," the reporters persisted, determined to get a scoop. One broke off to go question the receptionist.

Tsuruga summoned all his will to not bite their heads off. "Mere miscommunication. Excuse me, gentlemen."

He walked back to his car, calm on the outside but seething inside. Time was up. He sat in the drivers seat and locked the door. "How am I supposed to see her like this?!" he roared, banging the wheel. "If only we could go back to the Heel—" Ren paused. It had been so easy to be with her as Cain and Setsuka. A disguise! That was what he needed! He texted Yashiro to reschedule his morning appointments and turned the car to race back home.


	11. Rapper Ren

Ren's entire bedroom floor was littered with clothes. "Why is everything so bland?!" he yelled at his closet. "How am I supposed to hide in plain sight when everything I own screams RESPECTABLE SEMPAI!" He was beyond frustrated. It had been fourteen hours now since he broke up with Kana, three hours since the _Boost_ article premiered, and one hour since he was actually in the same building as Kyoko but couldn't risk seeing her. Ren kicked at the pile of clothes in front of him. He grabbed his keys and went back to his car.

Tsuruga Ren had never shopped in Harajuku or visited a BAPE store before; the brand was too much of a mainstream rapper look to be anywhere close to his style. In fact, it was uncomfortably close to a certain he-shall-not-be-named idiot singer's style. He strode in confidently, however, because he knew if he was going to be disguised this was the perfect trick. A complete change in style would have the reporters spinning – Tsuruga Ren would never appear in this large, puffy black jacket emblazoned with "A Bathing Ape" and close-fit jogger pants with BAPE scrawled across the crotch. Add a straight-bill baseball cap with cartoon flames, some dark shades, and a pair of black and green camo shoes and the look was set.

Tsuruga looked at himself in the mirror and almost burst out laughing. _Kyoko would have so much fun with this,_ he thought. It was the opposite of fairy tale dress-up, but somehow he knew she would be grinning from ear to ear helping him choose these ridiculous clothes. She'd look fantastic in BAPE's white crop-top and black mini skirt, even if it did have a giant orange monkey on the chest. Maybe someday they could come and pick out disguises together – matching ones – and go out unabashed in public. Holding hands. Walking side by side. Her smile glowing up at him, her laughter ringing through the crowded streets. Her voice the only one he heard, the world silenced around him except for every word that she chose to speak to him. Her long, slender legs and perfect, pert—Ren flushed bright red. _What am I doing?_

He was standing in a BAPE dressing room, dressed up like a ridiculously tall rapper, daydreaming about his crush, that's what he was doing. His laugh was self-deprecating and short. He needed to buy these clothes and go find her and explain fast. Before leaving, Tsuruga checked himself one more time in the mirror. He shoved his hands into his pockets, letting his shoulders relax and his spine curve slightly. He hung his head just slightly off-center, raising his chin and letting his eyelids lazily hood the top half of his eyes. A small sneer curled his upper lip as he nodded slightly at himself. "Let's do this." He swaggered out of the dressing room, throwing his credit card at the clerk. "I'll take these. Just throw away the ones I left in the room, aight?" She blinked rapidly at him, bowing over the card as she took it from his hands with both hands. "Yes… sir," she said, turning to quickly check out. _Crap,_ Tsuruga thought, _did she see through me?_ Turning to speak to her, he caught her snapping his photo with her cell phone from the checkout counter. _Crap, crap and double crap!_ He could only imagine the tabloids tomorrow!

The clerk came quickly over to him, "Sir, I'm so sorry sir, but I have to ask- are you YDIZZY from kiLLa? My friend loves your group! Could you sign this for me?" She held out a paper bag from their store, bowing again. Ren tried to hide his laughter, falling back into as deep a swagger as he could muster. "Nah, girl, try again next time. You'll know my name soon enough once the label drops," he shot her a wink and then left the store as quickly as possible. She still had his credit card, but he could definitely just call and cancel it.

Ren decided to leave his car in the parking garage around the corner and opted for a taxi instead. He wasn't sure if the paparazzi knew his car, but he couldn't risk them blowing his disguise. Bending his long, lean frame in half to get into the small taxi, Ren carefully watched the driver from behind his shades. The driver didn't seem phased at all by his appearance. Maybe this would work. Or maybe it was that compared to the rest of the colorful Harajuku streets, Ren was actually quite conservatively dressed.

The ride to her studio for _Lotus_ was long, giving Ren plenty of time to rehearse what he would say and do. First things first, explain the disguise. Definitely first. Ren looked down at his legs again, their length accentuated by the slim cut and tight ankles of the pants. He felt out of place, but he knew he would not be recognized immediately as Tsuruga Ren, and that delay was all he needed to get past any paparazzi and into the studio to find her. Finally, the taxi pulled up and the driver motioned for payment. "Got you, brah," Ren drawled, tossing several large denomination bills at the driver. "Big, big spenda whaaaat. Amiright?" The driver rolled his eyes at Ren, cursing the stupidity of wastrel younger generations and shooing him out of the car while rapidly stuffing all the bills into his car safe.

 _Totally overdid that_ , Ren grimaced. _But still, it's kind of fun. Reminds me of being Cain, in a way._ He mused as he sauntered over to the front door. Acting in broad daylight, no cameras, just the real world versus him. It was always a rush. Cain was better though – not because of the violence or the style… just because he had a little sister. Ren grinned. A few passerbys stopped and stared at him weirdly before he realized a dopey grin probably clashed horribly with his persona and he lapsed back into a cold, superior sneer. _NG,_ he said mentally. He walked straight past the receptionist, rubbing his nose to cover his face further as he passed her.

"Sir? Excuse me, sir! The public is not allowed in the studios. You need to leave, sir—" he saw her pick up her phone to call security and quickened his pace, ducking around the corner and into the first reading room. He ditched his puffy coat there, betting on her focusing on that in her identification. The shirt underneath was green and black camo in the shape of ape's faces. _Still works,_ he thought. He waited until security ran past and then ducked back out, casually heading the opposite direction.

Ren checked the schedule from Yashiro to get her shooting location: Bay 9. Off he went, careful to keep his hat down and his posture full of swagg. The occasional eye contact made with a staffer was answered with a simple, "Yo," and a head tip—often enough to confuse them and send them on their way. Finally, he made it to Bay 9. He quietly pushed open the door and slunk into the back, careful to let as little hall light as possible make it into the shooting area.

Kyoko was centerstage in full Momiji gear, surrounded by black-clad figures. She crouched low, one leg spread out to the left, balancing her and giving her ability to spring in any direction. Her left hand gripped the hilt of her blade as the right ran along its length, summoning concentration and strength. Her eyes were slits, shifting constantly to watch and measure the surrounding enemy. Suddenly one attacker shifted forward and Momiji leaped. She flew into the air, pushing off her bent leg into a graceful flip over her sword. She landed in the midst of the circling attackers, slashing out in a wide arc with her sword to wound two attackers then spinning again to connect with a third enemy in a roundhouse kick. Rebounding off the residual energy from impact, Kyoko flew in the opposite direction and elbowed one attacker in the face, whipping her other arm around to grab a fifth enemy by the hair and slam their head down into her knee. Her bent arm held the sword and straightened, stabbing forward to impale a sixth then pulling back as she cartwheeled over the fallen and kicked the seventh square in the face. A final spin at landing brought her to a sudden stop in front of the eight attacker, her blade held against his throat. The entire time she hadn't made a single noise. The fight had been silent except for the grunts and moans of her attackers.

" _Who sent you?_ " she growled, her first lines in the scene.

"CUT!" yelled the director. "Perfection, Mogami-san. Not a single error in choreography. We couldn't have gotten better from a ten-year veteran! Every one of you, great work, great work. Take a break and change for the dinner scene." Kyoko was helping up her co-workers, spewing profuse apologies. Each bowed in turn to her, trying to stop her apologies and lavishing her with praise. They'd never seen such vicious accuracy. She took every single move to its furthest extent without actually ever touching them, making their part of faking impact and injury the easiest it had ever been. One by one they all filed off until Kyoko was left standing, wiping off her sweat.

Ren was mesmerized. He stood frozen against the doors, swagger replaced by adoration. She was absolutely stunning. Never could he imagine pulling those moves himself after only studying wushu for a few weeks ago like Kyoko. He was highly skilled at combat and understood the intense muscle control needed to make these scenes realistic without actually hurting any of your coworkers. The way she moved was brutal elegance itself. Her slender, hard muscles taunt as she leaped over their bodies, her golden eyes fierce below her sweat band—and then the disorienting, genuine smile that broke out when the director praised her. Ren held his chest, trying to stop his heart pounding. She'd left the stage a moment ago, but he didn't know where she went. He had to find her.

Ren grabbed a lunch bento from the staff table and headed off towards the dressing rooms. A staffer moved to block his way, suspicious. Ren bowed slightly, saying, "Yo, ah, where's Mogami Kyoko's dressing room? She ordered this bento from my boss's place and I'm just delivering it. Escort me if you need to, kay?" The staffer looked at him askance but decided he wasn't a threat and sent him to room 4.

The walk to her room was short and before Ren knew it he was standing outside her door. His hands shook slightly with nervousness. This was it. She was here, he was here—it was time to make this work. He took a deep breath and turned the knob, pushing open the door.


	12. Every Smile You Fake

Ren stepped inside and quickly closed the door behind him. Kyoko squealed, jumping back and covering herself with her arms.

"Ah, god! I'm sorry," Ren shouted. She was in the middle of dressing. He should turn around; he should definitely turn around; _why aren't I turning around?_ Her hands were the only thing covering her upper half, clasped around her breasts as she stared at him in fear. Her golden hair was slick with sweat, plastered in little pieces to her face. Small drops of sweat dripped down her temple from her hairline. Other drops gathered in a delicate pool in the hollow between her breasts. Her chest was heaving as she breathed deeply, still recovering from her choreography. He looked lower, taking in her perfectly defined abs and pure, white skin.

Kyoko finally recovered her voice and shouted, "GET OUT!" Her shout shook Ren out of the hypnosis her body had wrapped him in and he shouted back a somewhat garbled, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" and ducked back out into the hallway.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he heard Kyoko scream through the door. She was probably writhing on the floor in a ball if he guessed right. Probably still not changed. Probably still without a shirt on. He banged his head back against the door way and moaned. He should go back in there and apologize. Or kiss her. Ren let himself imagine racing in, grabbing her around her waist, pressing her against him and kissing her senseless. "Tsuruga-san," she would call to him...

"Tsuruga-san!" the shout came again, and Ren blinked, hearing his name called from behind the door. _All imagination!_ Ren flushed scarlet red, willing himself to calm down, but it was devilishly hard.

As soon as he had left, Kyoko had immediately dropped to her knees in shock when he shut the door behind him. _A man... saw me_ — she clutched her arms tighter around her chest, squeezing herself in a bear hug. _A strange, strange creeper man in an ape shirt!_

"Pure Japanese maidens of the world! I am sorry!" She whipped herself down into a formal bow, prostrating herself toward the east, then the west, then the north and finally ending south. "Ancestral Pure Japanese Maidens! I am sorry! May you ever haunt the cursed man who stole my pureness!" She threw her hands to heaven and then bowed low again. _Tsuruga-San is going to murder me!_ She trembled. She remembered how dark his anger had been for one stolen kiss. This was so much worse! _Aieeeee!_ She cringed inside, preparing herself. "Sempa—" she froze mid-apology.

Sempai.

Shoulder width. Neck length. Jaw angle. Head circumference. Chest circumference. Length from knee to hip. Length from knee to ankle. Shoe size. Femur circumference. Pectoral muscle density.

The man. Sempai. "Tsuruga-San!" she wailed, jolting Ren out of his reverie in the hallway. _I threw out sempai!_ "I take back the curses, ancestors, I take them back," she whispered, covering her face in agony. "Tsuruga-San, I am so sorry!" she yelled loudly.

Kyoko called again, "I'm so sorry! I didn't know it was you, I'm so sorry!" He could tell by the way her voice came from high and then low she was repeatedly performing dogezas even though the door was close. Her agony at merely throwing him out compared to him, filled with lust because of a brief glimpse of her skin, shamed him and his blood instantly cooled.

"What have I done?" he sighed. He turned and placed his hand on the door, speaking to her through the wood. "Mogami-san, please stop immediately. It is I who owe you the deepest of apologies. My barging in was unforgivable—"

"No such thing!" Kyoko wailed. "A kohai must always be ready to learn and must always show respect! I didn't recognize you though and I am so so so so so so sorryyyyyyy…" her voice drifted off into a weird wail and he sighed. He knocked on the door gently.

"Mogami-san, are you dressed? Please let me in when you are decent." He knew the only way to calm her was to move forward.

"Ai-yah! Dressed! Uh," a brief pause ensued, then, "Yes, Tsuruga-sempai, please come in!"

He waited another thirty seconds, then slowly opened the door. His memory flashed the scene he had seen before, but instead of a partially-clothed sweat-covered Momiji there was… no one?

He looked down. Kyoko was a shaking mass on the floor in a perfect dogeza. He stood there and tapped his foot at her, impatient. "I said, enough. Stand," he commanded.

Kyoko snapped to her feet instantly, at strict attention. She avoided looking at him. _He's seen my chest, he's seen my chest, he's seen my chest—he must die!_ screamed her Inner Purity Tribe of demons, ranting for revenge. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a tiny cluster of demons sat with their shades on, sipping lemonade from glasses with tropical umbrellas. _What's the big deal?_ they returned. _I saw his, he saw mine. Now we're even._ Kyoko blushed furiously. She wasn't sure this was something she wanted to be "Even" with her sempai about. She pulled her shirt a little tighter around her and peeked at him from beneath her fringe. He was dressed so oddly.

"What does BAPE mean?" she asked before she could stop herself. Ren blushed lightly, realizing she had been looking at his crotch where the word was emblazoned. But then he considered and realized he didn't know the answer to her question.

"Mogami-san... I have no idea!" he threw his head back and laughed. She stared at him, incredulous. The sight of him in those street clothes, covered in a nonsense-slogan and apes, is head thrown back as he laughed at himself was just too ridiculous and soon she was caught up in laughing along with him. Their laughter cut the tension and Ren looked at her, a genuine smile on his face. She was his treasure, and he had messed this up.

"Please, sit," he gestured to the single chair in front of her mirror. "We need to talk."

Kyoko sat willingly, watching her sempai. "About your outfit? Tsuruga-san, is this for a new drama?" she giggled. "I can't wait to hear the story."

"About the outfit, yes," he said, pausing before he continued. "About Kana-san... and about us." He watched her expression change to sadness when he mentioned Kana, and then fear when he mentioned "us." _Why would she be afraid?_ Tsuruga wondered. Should he wait? Was she ready for this, or did he need to take it more slowly for her heart?

"Please," he said softly. "Don't be afraid of me." He reached his hand out and gently placed it on top of hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww Kyoko please don't freak out about Rapper Ren touching your hand! Check out EMYM Makes Me Want You stories for a slightly more... detailed and citrusy set of Ren's imaginings ;-) Have a wonderful day!


	13. Just A Man

There was no room for excuses; no room for playacting. Tsuruga Ren was in her dressing room, standing beside her, looking down gently at her. Worst of all – oh, so very, very much worst of all—his hand rested on top of hers. His long, slender fingers draped completely around hers, cradling their undersides in a soft embrace. She stared at their hands. You could barely see her beneath his and she felt like her strength was disappearing beneath his the same way. She mustn't look at him. Kyoko's heart raced. No matter what, until the conversation was done and her fate to live behind him watching as he walked away with another woman was sealed, she must not look at his eyes. She could feel it in her soul as she stared at their hands.

She wanted to run, but the weight of his hand pinned her to the spot. Even though his grip was soft, like capturing a butterfly, she couldn't move. Just like when Cain had pinned her to him in a hug and she couldn't summon Setsu to protect herself; she was trapped by this simple, sweet gesture, and she felt her heart starting to try to burst out of the chains with which she tightly bound it.

Ren's palmed burned with the sensation of touching her skin. He felt heat slowly filling his arm, his chest, his heart. His pulse gently increased as nerves kicked in. He swallowed nervously, trying to will her to look at him. He wanted to see her eyes, to watch her reactions.

"I don't want to know," she whispered.

Ren flinched as if struck. He almost withdrew his hand but forced himself to stop and stay steady. He remembered Kotonami's words to him and felt his heart fill with sadness. Had he freed himself from Kana just to find a more bitter prison in her rejection?

No. Even if she rejected him—he would be free. He would be hers. He would follow and protect and cherish her from afar, never speaking to her again if that was her wish. But any other life with any other woman, would slowly kill him.

"I'm sorry," he said, speaking so softly and tenderly. He worked to hold back his tears. Saying the next words felt like speaking her rejection of him into existence, but he knew he needed to move forward anyways. "I know I am only your sempai. I know I have… betrayed," he clenched her hand at the word, bending forward slightly trying to see her face. Kyoko turned her face away. She _must not_ look at him. She must protect any shred of her heart that would remain after he said what he needed to say. Watching his face would certainly kill her.

"Betrayed," he repeated, his anxiety and commitment growing with each word, "your trust in your sempai. But Mogami-san, I am, after all… just a man." Ren sighed. "Just a human. I cannot live to your standards. And yet I cannot live without you by my side." Kyoko's spine straightened. _Friends. If this is what he needs from me, a friend to accompany him and stay by his side, this is what I can be. Do not look at him and I can be this much._

Ren squeezed her hand gently again. _Please look at me._ "This is why I'm dressed in this ridiculous outfit. I had to see you today, and the world was conspiring against me. No one can know I was here," he said. Kyoko frowned, turning towards him finally with that statement. He caught her eyes and she gasped.

His eyes were almost filled with tears. "Why are you—Tsuruga-san, are you crying?" Concern filled her and Kyoko reached her free hand out towards his face.

Ren laughed a short, self-deprecating laugh. "Not on the outside, yet," he looked at her earnestly.

Kyoko studied him carefully, her eyebrows knit with uncertainty. "Why must no one know you are here? What happened?"

"I broke up with Kana-san," he said simply. He felt like he was close to a ledge, waiting for the cliff to wash away below him. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and fill his senses with the scent and feel of her, but instead slowly rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand.

"You—what?!" Kyoko stared at him. Her hand dropped away from him. "But your kiss, the article, the date! And in the earlier picture you were holding her and walking into a date—" Kyoko stopped, the truth suddenly clear. "You never cared for her. It never reached your eyes."

Ren didn't say anything, he just looked at her. _See it in my eyes for you. See the difference._

Kyoko had a battle ongoing inside her mind. _Why would Tsuruga-san go on a date with someone if there was no sincerity in it at all? Why would he lead Kana-san on? Why would he hold someone – kiss someone – if he never cared for her?_

Kyoko looked back up at him. He was watching her, his eyes alight with some inner fire behind the light sheen of tears. "No…" she said. _Not me. Don't choose me to play with next. I won't survive. I won't survive!_ Kyoko felt tears flood her eyes and ripped her hand out from under his, freeing herself. "No!" she said. "Not me!"

Ren reached for her hand instantly, the shock of her departure and denial shaking him. He wouldn't accept it. He couldn't accept it—she needed to come back to his side. He needed her! She raised her hand up, away from him, holding it in the air behind her and glaring at him with fierce, tear-filled eyes. He felt his heart start to slowly shatter and forced himself to breathe properly. "Mogami-san, listen to me," he started, but just then his phone rang. He needed a breath, a space, time to figure out what to say, how to make her hear him and know his heart, his need, how he would treasure her—so he let his hand fall and answered the phone.

"Ah, Ren-san!" Yashiro's cheerful voice was harsh and unforgiving against Ren's ear. He couldn't answer. "Tsuruga-san, are you there?"

"…yes," Ren softly spoke.

"Oh, ah—ok! Listen, I'm in a tight spot here with a manager's meeting suddenly called by President Takarada. I was supposed to drive Mogami-san to her mountain shoot tonight but I won't be able to. It's a far distance so she can't bike, and I really don't want her to have to pay for a taxi. I know if I tell her, she'll just up and go on her own somehow. Please drive her for me?" Yashiro ended, waiting for Ren's joyful response. He knew Ren would leap on the excuse to see his crush for a few hours.

There was silence on the other end.

"Ren-san? Eh? If you're worried about your schedule, it's clear. I wouldn't have asked otherwise." Yashiro confirmed, waiting.

Ren sat very still, watching Kyoko. She had turned away from him again, clearly waiting for him to finish his call so she could ask him to leave. _I won't leave. I won't ever leave again,_ he thought, determination rising.

"Yes, Yashiro-san. I'll do it. Send me the time and address," Ren said. "I'll take her anywhere she needs to go." At that sentence, Kyoko turned to look at him over her shoulder, her eyes uncertain. Ren locked his phone and slid it back into his pocket, watching her.

"I'm your driver tonight, Mogami-san," Ren said. "I'll wait outside." He bowed slightly to her, turned and left the room. Kyoko waited until the door shut and slumped down onto her dressing table, crying soft, quiet tears into her folded arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every storm gets darker before the light. Right? Right... anyways, this is how I feel about the two of them right now in the manga (237). Come, sunshine, please come! Love you all, and thanks for the wonderful ideas and encouragement in the reviews! ~persephone


	14. Name Dropping

Kyoko slowly calmed, the tears drying up as she lay on her folded arms. She didn't know what to think. Tsuruga-san was single again, already, and it was almost worse. "Why does he have to be such playboy," she whispered sadly into the crook of her arm. Everything else was perfect about him. She sighed, burying her head in her arms.

Tsuruga-san's voice was warm and gentle but strong. His eyes were rich and expressive. He was independent but needy at the same time, like a strong-willed child. She wanted to help him and hold him and learn from him all at the same time. He was the most inspiring actor, drawing emotions and reactions out of her in a way she could only dream of reproducing. And he was so... _handsome_ , she whispered in her heart.

But she would never fall for another playboy again. Stupid Shotaro. There was at least one thing he was good for: he'd shown her clearly the dangers of even liking a man that messed around with women's hearts.

"Why do I always fall for the bad guys?" she said, picking her head up to set her chin on her arms. "I need to reset this brain of mine!" Kyoko stared at her reflection in the mirror. Puffy eyes, slightly runny nose, hair still a mess from the Momiji wig— _lovely_. "I do not understand why he would even bother messing with me," she sighed, mussing her hair. "Moko-San would be a much more beautiful partner. Ah! But Moko, no!" Kyoko sat bolt upright, stabbing her finger at her reflection in the mirror. "You— Mogami Kyoko! You know the dangers of playboys! You must find a way to protect the heart of Kotonami Kanae!"

She nodded at herself. She could be on the alert for her very best friend in the whole world. She could make sure Tsuruga-San never... Kyoko watched her face crumple as she thought of him chasing after other women.

"I can't do this," she said simply.

There was a tentative knock at the door. Kyoko called out, "Please don't come in, I'm not ready."

"Mogami-San, I just wanted to let you know we need to leave in five minutes if we aren't going to be late for the mountaintop photo shoot," Ren called softly without opening the door.

 _Mountaintop shoot?_ Kyoko pondered. _Is that where he's driving me?_ "But I don't remember a mountaintop shoot on my schedule...?" she replied.

"Yashiro-san told me earlier. He had sent me your schedule for— ah, so I could help him with driving you tonight. It was on there," Ren tried to explain, almost giving himself away.

"I thought he just asked you when he called a minute ago?" Kyoko questioned, standing and finishing her simple refreshing routine. She sprayed her hair with some water from a mister and rubbed chamomile oil in, then spritzed her face lightly with the water. Fluffing her hair with a blow drier and adding a touch of dry shampoo, Kyoko was ready.

Ren hesitated before replying. "He did, yes. That's when he confirmed."

Kyoko looked at herself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. She wished she could go home and shower before the photo shoot. A mountaintop in the evening was a strange place for a shoot. It could be quite cold.

"Ah! That's it!" Kyoko clapped her hands. The exposure therapy! Yukihito-kun had even managed to work a last-minute job into it for her. "Yukihito-kun, you are a wonder!" she said, smiling. If her heart could just make it through the drive up the mountain, she was sure Yukihito and Moko's idea would work. She would shake and shiver that man right out of her head!

"Mogami-san, did you say 'Yukihito-kun?'" Ren called. He had heard her clearly from the hallway. When did she get so familiar with him? What was going on? He felt jealousy start to rise in him before he even knew the full story.

Kyoko opened the door, bravely coming to stand in front of him. She held tightly onto her bag with both hands, keeping them safe from his casual touch. "Yes, Tsuruga-San! He said it was necessary to be informal if we were close enough for Moko-San and I to crash at his place," she said innocently, turning to head to the garage.

"Crash. At. His. Place." Ren said slowly and clearly. She was walking away. So freely. He was frozen to the spot. He grabbed his phone and dialed as fast as his fingers would move.

"YASHIRO YUKIHITO. Whatdidyoudolastnight—" the words came out in a loud tumble from Ren.

Yashiro laughed. He had planned to tell Ren after his "exposure therapy" tonight— but this would work too. "Nothing much, why?"

"Mogami-San said she 'crashed at Yukihito-kun's place with Moko-san.'" Ren forced the words out of his mouth. He was livid.

"Ahaha, yes, yes. We had a girls' night. Here, I'll send you the selfie we took! Have fun tonight Tsuruga-san!" Yashiro hung up preemptively, sending Ren the photo of himself, Kanae, and Kyoko-Chan smiling together on the couch.

Ren growled at the picture. A gnawing feeling ate at him deep inside. She had chosen Yashiro to go to instead of him. To laugh with instead of him. To chat, to snack, to sit on the same sofa— all without him.

"Yukihito-kun..." Ren muttered, shoving the phone in his pocket. _She's going to call me Ren-kun by the end of tonight or I swear, I'll..._ He stalked after her.

His phone pinged. He didn't want to, but he couldn't stop himself checking it. It was Yashiro again.

—Found your car in Harajuku. Figured you'd need it for driving Kyoko-chan, so I had the tank filled and it driven to your location. 3rd level parking garage, Row A.—

The man was a wonder. Kyoko-chan. Ren rubber his fingers in a fist. So friendly. He struggled to keep his anger in check as he strode off after "Kyoko-chan."

Yukihito had spent most of the day organizing the set-up for Plan Massive Exposure. Ren threw a kink in his scheme when he left his car in a random parking garage in Harajuku, but Yukihito easily located it with the GPS emergency aid app installed in the car's radio. He smirked at his phone as he scrolled through their texts. Ren never, ever let him tease him about his love for Kyoko-chan but Yashiro Yukihito wouldn't let that stop his matchmaking attempts. He shot off a quick text to Kanae.

—Plan in motion. Meet for victory dinner?—

—Too cocky calling it victory this soon— she sent back.

Yukihito chuckled. He could just see her face as she wrote that. Slight disgust at his arrogance about her friend's future, her beautiful eyes pulled down slightly at the corners.

—Touché— he sent back, followed with a quick — Pick you up at 6:30?-

—6:45— she replied. Yukihito pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose, grinning broadly. Tonight would be a good night indeed.

Ren caught up with Kyoko at the door to the garage. "Level 3," he said, gesturing to the elevator up. The pair were silent as they waited for the elevator, Kyoko fidgeting slightly and Ren standing extremely still. The doors opened and Ren held his hand out for Kyoko to enter first.

He turned to look at her as the doors shut. She stared at the buttons like she was going to burn a hole in the Close Door button.

"Why didn't you call _me_ when you needed a 'place to crash'?" he said, trying not to bite off the words. "You and I are closer than you and Yukihito-kun." He couldn't help the bitterness in his voice when he said the familiar version of Yashiro's name. Kyoko remained silent. "You've been to my apartment many times. You've cared for me when sick. We've traveled abroad together. We lived together for weeks," he felt his anger rising.

"No," Kyoko said simply. "That was Cain and Setsuka."

"That was _us_ , and you know it. Cain was a shield. It wasn't Cain that needed you, it was me," Ren said as he loomed over her.

Kyoko mind was reeling. The doors opened but Ren didn't move from standing over her. "Us...?" she said simply. The elevator pinged and the doors slid shut again. The floor shook slightly as the machine started to descend.

"I saw the cracks in Setsu," he said. _At least_ , he thought, _I want to believe I did. I desperately want to believe she felt things as much as I felt them. That she was aware of me as much as I was of her._ He thought of her coming in on him in the shower and so calmly leaving and continuing on as if nothing had happened. _But maybe it's all a pipe dream._

Kyoko went white. "You... knew?" He couldn't know. She had slipped, slipped bad enough that President Takarada found out about her love. And now, Tsuruga-San said he knew, too— knew the whole time?

"Don't lie to yourself anymore," he said, leaning closer, "and don't lie to me."

The elevator pinged again and the doors opened, the sound of people talking causing Tsuruga to spring back off Kyoko and stand casually next to her. The people stepped back, waiting for them to leave. Tsuruga beckoned them in, apologizing. "We missed our floor; we will ride up with you if it's not inconvenient." The couple nodded and entered, Tsuruga making space by moving closer to Kyoko.

Their arms brushed in the small space as the elevator swayed slightly. Kyoko felt like her mind was broken. _He knows. He knows. He knows._ It repeated over and over like a bad pop song, digging deeper into her subconscious with each refrain. The doors opened for their floor and Tsuruga walked out. She stayed put, staring at the buttons still.

Ren motioned to the couple a simple sign of thanks, asking for their patience, and walked back in. He took Kyoko by the hand and led her out of the elevator. She walked numbly by his side, her grip on his hand loose. He held her hand tighter to make up for it. Something he had said about Cain and Setsu struck a chord in her and he wasn't letting her freeze him out.

He held her hand all the way to the car. When he stopped walking to unlock the doors, she seemed to snap out of it and pulled her hand out of his. He flexed his fingers, suddenly missing her warmth, passive or no.

"I don't want to go," she said.

He sighed. "Mogami-San, you have a photography team waiting for you. The sunset is brief. Be a professional and get in the car."

"I will take a taxi," she pleaded.

"Do you know how much it would cost to hire a taxi that far? Well over $100," he said, holding her door open.

Kyoko swallowed. She couldn't afford that, not and make her student loan payment on time. She looked at the passenger seat and at him, then back at the passenger seat. "I don't want to," she said meekly. She wanted to turn and run is what she wanted.

Ren sighed. "Listen, I know last time we were in a car together... it wasn't pleasant. I was rude. I promise you— I'm not mad at you. I only want... I just want to talk. You need to get to this job anyway, so please, get inside."

Kyoko clutched her bag, looking around. _He knows_ , she thought one more time. But she didn't have a choice. And she desperately needed a big dose of Yukihito's exposure therapy. She furrowed her brows and raced into the car, carefully moving her body so she didn't touch him as she sat down. She pulled the seatbelt across her body and snapped it in as quickly as humanly possible and sat stiffly, her hands folded into themselves on top of her bag.

Ren watched her, smiling slightly. She was giving him a chance. He gently closed the door and walked around to the driver side. He stopped with his hand on the door handle, pausing for a quick prayer for courage. He would make her hear him this time— he had a two hour drive to do so.


	15. There Is No Try

Half an hour into the ride and he hadn't found the courage to break the silence. She was there, at least. Staring out the window clutching her purse like a drowning person holding a life raft— but there. Next to him. He curled and uncurled his fingers around the gear shaft. He physically itched to move his hand four inches to the right and touch her, but he was afraid she would leap out the car window. She had made her feelings quite clear. It was his turn now. _Do or die,_ he thought. _Remember the warmth. She brought the light when cold darkness was taking over my entire being. She is my light._ He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He had to be clear. He knew he was risking everything but he couldn't stand going another minute without speaking to her.

Kyoko had spent the entire ride so far staring out the window, kneading her handbag with her hands nervously. She had to do something. She had to say something. He knew about her letting her true emotions break through Setsu— he let that bomb drop and then just sat there! And earlier he had even told her he needed her by his side. The two didn't connect. If he knew how she felt about him way back in Guam, and pursued Kana and Kimiko still — was he just looking for an easy target now? Images of The Emperor looming over her, forcing her into compliance with his whim for a quick relationship stirred in her mind and Kyoko almost squeaked aloud in fear. She risked a small sideways glance at him. He was concentrated on driving, his face still. His hand, though, betrayed how upset he was with her. He kept gripping the gear shaft until his knuckles went white, then releasing and stretching his fingers out before doing it again. She swallowed hard. She had to apologize for inconveniencing him with her feelings. Maybe then he would stop tormenting her; move on to some other prey.

"Kana-san—" Ren started.

"I'm so sorry I—" Kyoko blurted, speaking over top of him. Both stopped, looking at one another. Flustered, both gestured for the other to continue.

"Go ahead." "No, please, you first." "Mogami-san, go ahead." "A sempai should speak first!"

Ren sighed. His heart ached every time she called him _sempai_ now. "Alright. Kana-san and I—" he began again, but got no farther before Kyoko interrupted him with an unintelligible string of garbled words. He looked to the side at her, startled.

"I'm sorry, Tsuruga-san, I am being rude but I must go first. I need... I need to share this before you tell me. Ah, before you tell me about... yes, anyways," Kyoko was wringing her hands together, forcing them down into her lap. Her eyebrows were tightly knit together, working to try and stop any tears from spilling over. She knew she was crossing a line here that a kohai should not cross- but she couldn't stand him telling her any more details about another woman before she cleared her heart. Before she could truly stand before him, true to herself. She had broken a promise to him as Setsu, a promise to keep her actress's heart pure and clean within the role, and he knew. _Let me just apologize first,_ she thought, _and he may be satisfied._ Maybe then he wouldn't feel the need to use her, to teach her a lesson about why she needed to safeguard her heart. Maybe then she truly could be independent. The thought was both freeing and heartbreaking. _Could it be better to just let him use me?_ She clasped her hands together. _No. Never again. I will say all that I need to say to clear away my mistakes as Setsu, and be done._

Ren watched her out of the corner of his eye, worry creasing his own face. He desperately wanted to tell her the truth about what Kana had done, as she still hadn't seen the news report. But watching the sadness steal across her face, he knew he needed to let her speak first. Whatever she had to say... he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it, but she looked as if she would be completely lost if she didn't say it now.

"I'm sorry, Tsuruga-san," she said quietly, so quietly he strained to hear her clearly. "I have burdened you with my unwanted feelings. You weren't supposed to know. I'm sorry my acting was not good enough as Setsuka to persevere and keep my emotions where they belong," she bowed forward in her seat, unable to look at him. "I was not professional," she whispered. _The actress' rule of the heart._ "A true actress should never fall in love with her costar," she finished, burying her face in her hands.

Ren felt a blinding whiteness taking over his consciousness as her words slowly sank in. Her feelings... fall in love... He turned to look at her, his eyes wide. "Mogami-san, you couldn't mean— it's not that you—" he faltered, unable to voice his hopes.

She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. "Don't make me say it again Tsuruga-san. I will work hard to treat you only as a sempai and not let it change our relationship," she finished. She felt her whole body shaking. She was more nervous than she thought she would be. _Was this a panic attack?_ she thought. But she didn't feel panicked.

She looked up and saw the shaking wasn't coming from her, but the car. Tsuruga cursed under his breath and gripped the wheel tightly, putting on his blinker to veer off onto the shoulder of the road as the car did a final shudder and ground to a stop. He looked at her and then quickly away. Ren turned the key, trying to start the engine again but nothing happened. No noise, no grinding, no turning over of the engine. The car was dead. They were stranded.

He ran his fingers through his hair. _The timing..._ he turned to look at Kyoko. She was staring at the dash of the car with wide, panicked eyes.

 _Not now, not now!_ she shook her head back and forth faster and faster. _I can't be stuck — not with Tsuruga-san, not after what I just said! What if he's angry? He still hasn't said anything! Aieeeeeeee!_ Her inner demons were racing back and forth, making preparations against the hurricane of emotions currently being unleashed. Some were filling sandbags labeled "Rage" and "Revenge" with black sand and piling them high against the doorway labeled "Heart." Others were trying to nail boards across the inside of her eyes, yelling across at each other about the need to block out The Demon Lord's brightness. Still others were simply rolling on the floor, surrendered to the likelihood of a young and tragic death.

He reached out his hand toward her, the one he had mentally chained to the gear shaft to keep from touching her. If he understood her right, though— if what she said implied everything he dared to hope it did— then touching her now was exactly what he needed to do. She was upset and needed comfort. He smiled, remembering a gesture of Cain's when Setsu was upset. He took his hand and gently laid it on her cheek, catching her in the middle of one of her head-turns, stroking her temple with his thumb. She froze and stared at him, just like Setsu had. He broke into a massive grin and continued the re-enactment, waiting a beat longer before moving to his hand up to ruffle and muss her hair all over. She blinked at him and he held his hand out, acting like he wanted her to put his nonexistent glove on. She looked down at his hand and blushed red, then burst into laughter.

"I remember that!" she giggled. He smiled at her and leaned forward. He broke into a wide grin. _There she is_ , he sighed happily inside, _the sunshine coming back._ He wanted to remember more of their time together, more of those precious Heel sibling moments. He wanted to live them out- as Ren and Kyoko.

"Do you remember this?" he questioned, his voice lowering slightly as he pointed at the spot on his neck she had bit him.

Kyoko felt her face blush redder than ever before as she stared at his neck. She looked back at him and gulped. "Y-y-yes..."

"So do I," Ren said, voice husky. "Every day. Kana blackmailed me into dating her, you know. It's in the news today— but someone doesn't check things like that on her phone. Kana never meant anything to me. No one has ever meant anything to me. Ever," he continued as his eyes darkened. "Except... you." He raised his hand to her face again, letting it rest on her reddened cheek. "Don't ever apologize for your emotions," Ren whispered. "And don't ever stop falling in love with your costar— as long as that costar is me." He leaned forward to close the final distance and gently, slowly, kissed her.


	16. Cliffhanger

Softest touch, his lips on hers. His breath caressing her skin, making her eyes flutter closed. The warmth of his body's closeness drawing heat to her cheeks.

Tsuruga Ren was kissing her.

OH MY GOD.

 **Brain malfunction! Brain malfunction! WEEOOOWEEOO LEVEL 5 IMPACT BRACE FOR DAMAGE CONTROL** — and every demon living inside her brain was blasted to the floor, the sudden and sheer force of emotional impact knocking them unconscious. Kyoko was alone in her mind, a fragile girl dressed in white on the edge of the cliff. There was a blazing heat before her and she stepped backwards, afraid. The ground shifted under her foot. She put her hand up, protecting her eyes from the glare and stepped backwards again, her heel resting on the very edge of the cliff. Small rocks crumbled away beneath her weight. She was trapped, caught between the heat of the light and the cliff's edge. She hesitated.

He stepped forward from the center of the light. He reached his hand out toward her, his face gentle, eyes full of longing. She shook her head. _I can't._

He smiled. _I know. Neither can I._ He took another step toward her and she threw her hands up to stop him. The cliff wouldn't bear both of their weight. His smile grew brighter, filling his eyes with joy. _Jump with me_ , he offered, stepping within reach of her. She stared at him, disbelieving. _Jump?_

She looked just to her side— the darkness below was unending. Wide eyes darted back at him.

 _Do you trust me?_ he moved to stand close enough to embrace her. She looked at him, looking not with her eyes but with her soul. She tilted her head in the smallest of nods. _Yes._

His smile shone with the force of the sun as he wrapped his arms around her and leapt off the cliff. They fell — and then soared into the clear sky together as he finally grew his wings and carried them away.

Ren broke the kiss, moving back a hairs-breath from her to rest his forehead on hers. "Don't run away again," he whispered.

Kyoko sat very still, trying to wrap her mind around the certain reality that Tsuruga-san had kissed her. She said the first thing that came to her mind. "Don't date another woman again."

Tsuruga's eyes snapped open and he sat up, shocked that of everything she could say, she chose— then he laughed. Pure and clear and filling the cabin of the car. "Mogami Kyoko, I promise. Will you— could you— would you allow me to love you? To be with you?" his eyes grew soft as he looked at her upturned face. "To see only you," he said, bringing his fingers up to brush her bangs away. Her face blushed at the memory of the mirror and she looked down briefly. He used his fingers to cup her chin and raise it to look at him again. "And will you look only at me?"

She felt her blush rising again. _Too much at once_ , she thought. "Are you sure, Tsuruga-san?" she eeked out the words.

"Let me prove it to you. Day by day. Starting with dinner tomorrow. But I have one condition," he cautioned. She knew it. There was no way this was real. No way someone as grand and famous and in control as Tsuruga Ren would want her to be his... _girlfriend_. She had trouble even thinking that title.

"...yes?" she said, uncertain.

"Call me Ren," he finished, beaming at her.


	17. First Name Basis

_Call me Ren._ His request drilled into her heart. This was not a sempai-kohai relationship anymore. This was not a work relationship or even a friendship anymore. _Call me Ren._ His face was so close to hers, his eyes soft but demanding as they stared into hers. He was asking her to break down the carefully built barriers she'd been holding up against him. _Call me Ren._ She watched his eyes as he waited. A clear, deep brown with a faint... line around the iris?

"Are you wearing contacts?" she blurted out. She never knew Tsuruga had seeing difficulties. _Though_ , she laughed self-deprecatingly to herself, _it would explain why he confessed to a girl as plain as myself._

Tsuruga sat bolt upright, springing away from her. He instinctively raised his hand to his face to shield it, but forced himself to drop it back to his side. He shouldn't have to hide from her. Of all people, not her. He looked out his driver side window. _But now is not the time..._ he thought. _Let me just enjoy this. Please._

Kyoko was puzzled. Wasn't it a simple question? "Ah!" she threw her hands over her mouth. He had just confessed to her and asked her to call him by the most intimate version of his name and she replied with a question about correctional eye wear! She mashed her face with her hands, smushing it into unrecognizable putty. _Oaf! Oaf! You are horrible at this!_

Tsuruga heard her exhalation and stiffened. Was it possible she had already pieced together his appearance in Guam with his colored contacts? She knew him so easily as Cain— how could he have expected to avoid detection forever as Kuon? His heart sank. He wasn't prepared for this. But he would rather it all come out now than her catch him unguarded in a mistake. He sighed and tried to quickly piece his explanation together as he turned to face her again.

He caught her in the middle of completely smashing her face into mush with the palms of her hands and gasped. "Mogami-san, what are you—"

She moaned, "I am so sorrrrrrrrrrrry I didn't properly respond to you! That was so rude! I do not care if you are nearsighted or farsighted— I was just surprised and blurted it out! It was totally inappropriate for... for the— for the moment," she trailed off, awkwardness increasing as she referred to his confession.

Ren's heart soared. He could wait. He could find a way to tell her properly. He was saved! He lit up in a brilliant smile and clasped her hand.

"Mogami-san, let's go find a service station together. The car is out of fuel and we still need to try and make it to your shoot," he said. She looked at his hand resting on top hers and slowly, carefully rotated her own hand so their palms met, wrapping her fingers around his hand. She blushed as she considered what she was about to say, rushing into it before she had time to back down.

"Don't— don't you think you should call me Kyoko," she paused, taking a shaking breath before finishing, with the devastatingly simple but weight-filled, "Ren?"

Ren felt like his heart would burst. "Kyoko..." he said, allowing her name to glide off his tongue. "Kyoko," he repeated, slowly, savoring the feeling of each syllable as if it were a fine chocolate. He leaned close to her, kissing her on her temple. "Kyoko."

She turned her face up toward his, "Ren." He slowly drew his breath in. Watching her say his name was filling him with desire. He bent low and whispered, "Once more..." as he hovered close to her face. He wanted to feel her breath as she spoke his name.

"Ren..." she said softly. He closed the distance between them before she had fully finished the short syllable, capturing the breath she had used to speak his name with his mouth as he kissed her. He let his hand rise to rest on the nape of her neck, his fingers slipping into her hair. They kissed slowly, tenderly, relishing the feel of each other's lips, capturing the newfound intimacy in speech with another newness in physical love.

Kyoko felt like she was soaring, her heart unable to contain the wonder of the past half an hour. Revelation upon revelation, sudden and swift, turning her world upside down. Thirty minutes ago the man she was kissing now was lost to her. A playboy, she chuckled to herself, who didn't care about me. And now... she felt his fingers twirling her hair, pulling gently at her scalp and sending tingles through her. She felt his lips on hers, their breath mingling in their second kiss. She could speak his name.

"Ren," she spoke aloud against his lips, treasuring the sound. She pulled back from their kiss and looked at him. He smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear, rubbing her earlobe just as the Ren in the mirror had done.

"Let's go, Kyoko," he said, stepping out of the broken-down car and walking around to open her door. He helped her out, not letting go of her hand as they started walking down the hill to the last gas station they had passed.

The pair walked the short distance in silence. Ren took the opportunity to send a text to Yashiro, asking him to let the director of the shoot know they were going to be late because of car trouble.

Yashiro's phone lay on the white tablecloth as it pinged. He ignored it completely. Kanae sat across from him, sipping her glass of sparkling water as they waited on their orders. She was dressed simply but elegantly. A cream-colored softly draping sweater with a slightly-tighter-than-usual black pencil skirt accented by a silver hairpin holding back the right side of her long black hair. She toyed with her glass as she sat it down, spinning it by the stem.

"You look beautiful, Kanae," Yukihito said. She glared at him.

"I'm just dressed normally, mo," she grumbled. Kanae was no better at accepting his attention than Kyoko's. Nevertheless, she sat a little straighter under his regard, patting her hairpin to ensure it was fixed well.

"And as normal," Yukihito smiled, "you are stunning." He slowly moved his hand across the small table to catch hers as it played with her glass, intertwining his fingers with hers. She looked away but left her hand interlocked with his.

"Tonight isn't about us," she chided. "Didn't you get a text?"

"They'll be fine," Yukihito countered. He rubbed the back of her hand with his fingers. He wanted her to look at him again. He could drown in her eyes and die a happy man. "The plan was to force them to spend time one on one, right? I shouldn't even let myself be tempted to check my phone and intervene."

She knit her brows. She still wasn't sure letting Tsuruga Ren have all this time with her Kyoko was a good idea. What did she really know of him? Troublesome man. She turned to study Yukihito. His earnest face was partially hidden behind glasses again, but she still loved to look at his smooth, kind features. He was steady, but emotional— friendly and excitable and incomparably professional. In a way, he reminded her of Kyoko. Maybe that childlike joy both of them were capable of was part of why he was so attractive to her.

Yukihito flushed under her intense regard. He swallowed and raised his free hand to adjust his collar and fidget with his hair and glasses. She finally smiled at him, and it was like sunshine breaking through clouds. He beamed back, his eyes wide and full of joy, his mouth caught in a broad, toothy grin. Kanae felt her heart leap at that smile. So unaffected, and so simple to draw out. She wanted to see more of his expressions.

But first, she needed to know that Kyoko was alright. "Please check to make sure the text wasn't them asking for help," she asked, reminding him. "After all, you did scheme to have the mechanic disengage his fuel gauge and remove three-quarters of his tank's fuel. I know, I know," she continued, seeing him push his glasses up and start to protest the security of his plan. "An empty tank of fuel will just make them shudder and then slowly come to a stop, yes. But they are on a mountain road. What if there is no good pull-off?" Kanae raised her eyebrow at him, moving her hand beneath his as if to warn him she would withdraw physical contact if he didn't follow her request.

Yukihito nodded, admitting defeat. He left his hand covering hers and reached across with his other hand to grab his phone and unlock it. "They're fine— finding a service station. He's asked me to let the director know they'll be late," he chuckled. "Should I let them keep going, or pull the plug?"

Kanae considered. If they called off the plan too soon, it would be pointless. What if the two hadn't truly spoken yet? Yukihito's phone pinged again.

"Hah! Ah-hah!" he cried jubilantly. "I was hoping egging him on with that selfie would force him to share news with me!" Yukihito almost crowed with glee as he shoved his phone across the table at Kanae. He raised his own glass to her as she looked at the photo Tsuruga had sent. "Now, lets enjoy our appropriately-named Victory dinner, Kanae!"

She smiled at him, locking the screen of his phone. The look of joy on Kyoko's face as she stood hand-in-hand with Tsuruga Ren for their selfie was all she needed to see to be sure her friend would be well cared for. She smiled at Yukihito and raised her glass to meet his.


	18. I Can Only See Your Face

Ren immediately set the selfie he and Kyoko had taken as his background screen. He smiled down at her as they walked hand-in-hand. He wished the service station was fifty miles away so this moment of quiet peace, just being together, would never end. She was looking out over the mountains, her face aglow with wonder at the scenery. He wanted to take her and kiss her again, deeper this time. But he waited, content to take it slow. She had never experienced an actual romantic relationship before and he wanted to make each step special.

His phone pinged again, and he read the message from Yashiro.

—Director says they're calling it bc of weather anyways. Sorry about car; my fault. You ok to bring her home once you get gas? Nice pic btw—

Ren grinned. An unexpected free evening together. He nudged Kyoko and showed her the text. She frowned. "The weather? But it's a beautiful day. Oh no!" she cried, looking up at Ren. "Could he be upset at my lateness? Is this because of me?"

Ren pulled her to a stop and put his hand on her shoulder, not letting go of her other hand. "No, no. Maybe he wanted clouds! If it was because of our lateness, Yashiro wouldn't have hidden that. Let's just get the gas and I'll take you home."

Kyoko nodded, considering his words. Soon they arrived at the station and purchased a portable fuel can and filled it with gasoline. Ren hoisted the can on his shoulder and, thanking the clerk, headed back north with Kyoko. The walk went too fast for both of their liking. Kyoko tried to think of a reason to keep walking further up the mountain — watch the sunset? — but realized he probably had work early tomorrow and resigned herself. Ren seriously considered "accidentally" dumping all the fuel on the ground instead of in the tank, just so they'd have to walk back to the station, but he knew that was cruel to the environment. He sighed and dutifully filled the tank.

The drive home seemed even shorter than their walk. Kyoko and Ren listened to quiet music and talked some about her Momiji role, but mostly simply sat in wonder at the twists of fate that had led them here. They held hands over the center console, fingers tightly laced together and rubbing gently every so often. Eventually, Kyoko drifted off to sleep, lulled by the rocking of the car and his gentle rubs on the back of her hand. Ren pulled up at the Darumaya's back door and parked. He leaned over towards Kyoko and laid his free hand on her cheek.

"You're home, my love," he whispered. She stirred, not fully waking yet.

"Mmmm?"

"Kyoko, you're home," he said, changing his words slightly as she woke fully. He kissed her on her forehead when she smiled up at him. She turned to open her door, then hesitated and looked back at him. Not letting herself lose courage, she moved quickly to close the distance and peck him on the lips. She immediately flushed bright red, squeaked, and turn and fled from the car. She only stopped running when she reached the door inside, where she turned and shyly waved at him. Ren waved back in a daze, bringing his upraised fingers to rest on his mouth once she disappeared inside. He sat there in the dark, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open in wonder. Kyoko— his Kyoko— had kissed him. He let out a sudden whoop and beat his hands against the steering wheel, throwing the car in gear and speeding home. He needed to sleep as soon as possible so he could get to tomorrow and see her again as soon as possible.

Kyoko braced herself against the inside of the closed door, her heart hammering. Two days. Just two days ago she had fallen against this door with him outside it, her heart distraught at what she thought was his concern for Kana. And now— now, just on the other side of the door, she had kissed him! And he had kissed her— twice! She fingered her lips, remembering. Suddenly she heard the Taisho clang a pot in the kitchen and blushed, racing upstairs to her room.

She closed the door and remembered instantly. The mirror. Kyoko stood in front of the mirror and looked intently at it. "Not cursed," she spoke at it forcefully. "But blessed. I now pronounce you blessed!" She raised her hands high in the air and then down into a prayer pose. The actions she had seen in the mirror... she had been able to see in person. To feel in person. "Thank you, Mirror-san!" She bowed low in front of her reflection. Kyoko looked at herself and sighed with renewed wonder. She raised her hand to trace her lips. She never wanted to stop remembering how his lips felt on hers. They were full, and soft but firm as they pressed against hers. She blushed red-hot— not at all like that stupid Shotaro and his stupid fake kiss to Mio. Stupid, stupid forceful gross tongue. She stuck her tongue out at herself in petulance. _But..._ she paused, remembering another kiss. _Actually very similar to my first real kiss._

Corn's kiss had also been gentle but firm, with lips of the exact fullness and strength as Ren's. "Well, naturally," Kyoko said aloud to herself. "If he had to copy his body form, it would include the lips!" She nodded. "But it did feel almost exactly the same..." she said. She paused, conflicted. "Ah, well! Fairies are magical! It's natural the kiss would feel like the kiss of someone I truly..." she let her thoughts trail off. She could go no farther with that particular train of thought. Ahead lay only danger.

Kyoko shook her head and turned away from the mirror. She noticed a slip of paper on her desk— _the Omani must have left this here_. She decided to leave it for tomorrow. Tonight she just wanted to go to bed... and dream. She slid into bed with a comfortable sigh, pulled the covers around her shoulders, snuggling in, and fell asleep.

Kyoko opened her eyes to find herself back in Ren's car outside the Darumaya. He was hovering over her, one arm braced on her passenger side door and the other on the back of her seat.

"You're home, my love," he whispered. She felt his words sink into her like a drug.

"My love...?" She whispered back. His eyes grew heated, their brown centers glowing with an inner fire as the fact that she heard him registered.

"Yes..." he murmured. "Is that... alright?"

He bent lower toward her, his eyes piercing into hers as he waited for her reply. Instead of answering, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down towards her, drawing him into a kiss. She pressed her lips against his, trying to let him feel her response without words. He shuddered slightly and moved his lips against hers, the new sensation of lips moving against hers thrilling her. She gripped him tighter, wanting any space between them to be gone.

His lips parted and she felt her heart skip a beat when his hot, warm tongue grazed her lower lip. She instinctively reacted to the sensation, parting her lips. His tongue dove in to the gap she made, flicking over her teeth and touching the tip of her tongue. She cautiously moved her tongue, touching his, and he moaned at the action. He moved his hand from the door, putting his weight fully on his arm against her seat as he used his hand to caress her face and neck. Their tongues gently touched, the lightest of dances back and forth in her mouth. She felt a heat growing her in belly with just this small increase in the depth of their kiss. She moved both of her hands up into his hair, feeling the soft strands and letting herself run her fingers across and around his scalp, his hair falling through the gaps in her fingertips like velvet.

His hand continued to trace over her neck and cheek, gentle as air. She loved the feeling and wanted more. She wanted to feel his hand's touch everywhere, his kiss, his love forever.

She pulled back from their kiss to look at him and gasped. His eyes, full of love for her, were a bright and shining fairytale green.

She awoke, panting. Her face was flushed with the heated emotions of her dream and the sudden connection her subconscious had made to Corn. She sat up and rubbed her hair vigorously, trying to sort out her thoughts. The clock blinked 4:45 am. A ridiculously early time to start her day... but Kyoko didn't want to risk falling asleep again. She shook her fist at the mirror. "I haven't forgotten about you! I may take back that blessing if you go that again!" she whispered harshly, not wanting to wake the Taisho and Okami-San.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EMYM: Makes Me Want You updated with a naughty citrus dream sequence for our girl! Oh my, Kyoko, oh my. I can't blame her though, I would probably have steamy dreams after gazing into Ren's eyes that long... ;-)


	19. I Look Around

Kyoko was completely ready for work and it was all of 5:00 AM. "Fifteen minutes?! It only took me fifteen minutes to shower and prep and dress?!" Kyoko moaned, falling on her bed. It was still way too early to head to the studio; all the streets were dark, making it dangerous for bike riding. She grabbed her phone. Tsuruga-san... _no_ , she mentally corrected herself, _Ren_ — had mentioned news coverage of his break-up with Kana. She pulled up her browser and typed in "Tsuruga Ren Kana break-up."

Kyoko's eyes bugged out at the title of the topline search results from  .jp. "Oh no. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh nooooooooo!" she screamed under her breath, containing her horror to a hoarse whisper by sheer force of will to not disturb her hosts.

**SEX GOD TSURUGA BREAKS OFF WITH BLACKMAILING KANA**

_Kana Caught Disguised at Tokyo Intl Airport Fleeing To Singapore_

The entire headline was petrifying— Kyoko knew personally how Ren could draw out a darkness so deep it crept into your bones and couldn't blame Kana for fleeing the country— but her focus was fixated on the first two words.

**SEX**

**GOD**

Kyoko tried to close her eyes but found they were wedged open, glued to the words with a force beyond her strength. A high pitched wail was slowly making it way up her throat, growing in volume and intensity as it rose. She summoned all her will to protect the precious hours of sleep for the Taisho and Okami-san and threw the phone to her pillow, clutching her hands to her mouth to stifle her garbled moan. She sat there for at least five minutes, willing herself to calm down.

Finally confident she could release her mouth, she let go with a squeak. She whacked her phone under her pillow and turned to the mirror.

"I'm dating a... a Sex God!" She squeaked. "Aieeeeeee!"

Kyoko grabbed her blanket and wrapped them around her head, holding them closed under her chin like a nun's wimple. She had been alone, all evening, with the Sex God. _Ohmygodohmygodohmygod_. What if people found out she was dating him? What if the Taisho read the article and found out? What if the Okami-san found out? What if the Fuwas found out? What if Yukihito found out? What if Sawara found out? What if...

Kyoko's mind continued, rattling off every single proper person she knew by name, imagining their looks of horror linking someone who called herself a Pure Japanese Maiden to the Sex God Tsuruga. Suddenly, a blonde terror rose up in her subconscious, pointing at her and throwing his head back as he cackled. "Ah-hahahaha! You're my servant now, Kyoko! Ahahahaha! You stupid woman, you've totally tanked your career with that move! Ahahahaha!" Sho's mocking careened through her brain and she pulled the covers tighter, completely covering her face until only her nose showed.

Suddenly, she cracked. Kyoko whipped the covers off and leapt to her feet. She jabbed her finger at Sho's mangled poster on her wall and yelled at the top of her lungs: "DIE STUPID SHOTARO! I CAN DATE WHOMEVER I WANT! YOU ONLY WISH PEOPLE CALLED YOU A SEX GOD STUPID SHOTARO! BUT THEY WON'T BECAUSE YOU'RE JUST A COUNTRY BUMPKIN GO BACK HOME ALREADY PITIFUL FOOL!" Kyoko chucked her pillow at his poster, her chest heaving. "I'll show you! I'm going to rise to the top of show business, above you and above Tsuruga so NO ONE can say I didn't make it on my own and everyone will call ME the SEX GODDESS!" Kyoko finished with a roar, standing red-faced and triumphant in front of Sho's poster, her hair flaring out like golden flames around her face.

A knock sounded at the door. "Kyoko-chan, are you all right? Do you need... ah, do you need help?" The Okami-san's voice rang out timidly through the door and Kyoko jumped.

"Okami-San, please forgive me! I was ah, just rehearsing and I got far too into character. It is so early, I am so sorry to wake you!" she rushed about her room, tidying up the mess her frenetic denials had created.

"It's alright Kyoko-chan, the delivery comes at five with fresh fish so we are always awake well before now. I will make you some breakfast," the Okami said, turning and going downstairs. She met her husband in the kitchen and leaned over to him. "Kyoko-chan is fine dear, but I'm concerned about the topic of her next drama. It does seem rather... risqué for so young a girl." The Taisho grunted and raised his cleaver, chopping the head of a fresh fish with a single smashing stroke.

Kyoko came down a few minutes later, her face abashed. She rubbed her head as she entered the room, trying to physically work out her embarrassment at the Okami overhearing her. Okami-san greeted her warmly, gesturing behind her to the table where she had a steaming bowl of miso and some fresh poached fish and rice laid out for her. Kyoko thanked them effusively and scurried over to her feast. It had been a long time since she'd taken the time to sit and eat a hot breakfast, usually opting for a sandwich on the run— despite all of her ranting at Ren about the important of regular meals.

The food was delicious. Kyoko began to truly relax, setting aside the problems sure to come with today's revelation to just enjoy the simple sensation of a tasty breakfast. In the middle of her fourth sip of soup, her phone rang. She glanced at it and almost spit out the soup. It was quarter 'til seven; what was Ren doing calling her?! She grabbed the phone furtively and answered it in a whisper. "Yes...?"

"Kyoko? Are you there?"

His easy use of her name still thrilled her. She half-believed it would thrill her the rest of her life— but didn't let herself actually conceive of any sort of timeline involving Ren. Moment by moment was enough. Honestly, she wasn't even sure any of this was real. She was definitely about to wake up. Any minute.

"Kyoko? Hello?"

"Ah, eh, yes, hello," she said, quietly, trying not to draw the attention of her hosts. She was talking to the Sex God on the phone right now and somehow, she just knew it, somehow if Taisho found out she was on the phone he would _know_ the title of the man she was talking to. She could only imagine the stare of death that would be plastered to her back if he caught wind of Ren's tabloid nickname.

"Why are you talking so quietly?" he laughed, amused by the way her voice sounded so small in his ear. He could just imagine a tiny fairy Kyoko landing on the phone and trying to speak with all her might but coming out with just a teeny whisper. "Is everything alright? I know it's early, but I figured with your morning shoot you would be up. I'd like to come and pick you up and drive you. I missed you last night." The words rolled so easily off his tongue. Was he really speaking to Kyoko? Was this really happening? To so easily let her know she was on his mind when for months he had bottled up everything concerning her inside… Ren almost pinched himself, but made himself be content with waiting for her answer.

"WHAT?!" she blasted his eardrum. The Okami jumped and the Taisho's cleaver hit an extra staccato beat in his chopping rhythm.

"Kyoko-chan?" the Okami turned and called out to her in concern. Kyoko winced, motioning with her palm that all was well.

"No, no you can't," she said, cupping the phone to her ear with her shoulder and hurriedly cleaning her dishes up. She didn't want to continue talking with him where she would inconvenience her hosts any longer. Or risk the Taisho finding out about Ren's new nickname.

"But, Kyoko, I—" Ren started, but she cut him off.

"I READ THE PAPERS THIS MORNING," she blurted. The Taisho's forehead creases grew into small canyons as his cleaver moved ever faster. He was silent as ever, but with a dark stormcloud surrounding his face as he gained an inkling of trouble for the young girl for whom he held responsibility. Kyoko bowed swiftly at both of them and scurried to her room.

Ren remained silent on the other end, waiting. If she didn't mean the papers he thought she meant, he was _not_ about to draw her attention to them again.

"Your new nickname. The—ah, the divine one! You are NOT allowed under any circumstances to pick me up until—until—I don't know when! But I can't—" Kyoko couldn't find a way to express herself. She wanted to be around him. She wanted to feel his hand on hers, to maybe even feel his lips… but not with the Sex God! Not at this risk. Not while there was such a storm surrounding his new title. She didn't know how to face it. _Kana would be mature enough to handle this_ , she berated herself. _But I—_ Kyoko looked at herself in the mirror. _I am just a high school girl._ She sighed. "Can't you see? I can't handle this."

Ren hung his head, clasping the phone to his ear like a lifeline. He hadn't been thinking about the aftermath for himself – or Kyoko – when he had nailed Kana. He just wanted her to pay. He wanted to be free. Goddamit, he just wanted to get Kyoko. But now… he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. _I have to figure this out for us. Or I could lose her._

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Kyoko, I just want to see you," he said softly. "But I understand." He paused. "Promise me—you aren't angry at me? I had to get rid of her somehow. I have no control over what they write."

Kyoko was still staring at herself in the mirror. Silly, young, ill-prepared little girl. "Angry…?" she muttered. "Ren, no… I want to see you too. But… not like this. Not with this between us everywhere we go."

Ren's eyes lit up as he had a sudden idea. "Not as 'us,'" he said. "But maybe, as someone else?"

Kyoko's brows knit together, puzzled. "What do you mean? How can that be?"

"I'll show you later. Wait for my delivery at the studio. I'll see you tonight for our date still, I promise!" Ren hung up, smiling. _Maybe this will work out fun anyways_ , he thought, immediately dialing another number. _Thank God for 24-7 customer service lines._ "Yo, ah—I was at your store last week. Could you do me one and send my girl somethin' fast? Yeah—let me give you my digits, hang on…"

Kyoko stared at her phone in wonderment. His moods could be so changeable sometimes, just like a little kid. _Just like Corn_ , she thought, giggling at the memory of adult Corn at the hotel bar on Guam. One minute petulant, the next radiant. She looked at the mirror. "I wonder what Ren looks like petulant," she smiled. "I wonder if Corn was able to nail all of his facial expressions too." She traced her lips thoughtfully. _Like he nailed his kiss..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EMYM Makes Me Want You updated with a lemony alternate scene! Betcha can't guess where it fits in to this chapter. Dedicated to Kanae-San on facebook because her coloration of Ren modeling those pants with the suspenders made it nearly impossible for me to not write a lemon for him tonight! SEXIEST FACE EVER.


	20. It's You I Can't Replace

Kyoko rushed down the studio's halls. She had ten minutes to spare but needed the downtime in the green room to collect herself and regain Momiji. The night had been a whirlwind. She muttered to herself as she speed-walked- "Sex God!" Strangely, it was almost easier for her to call him that now than it was for her to call him... boyfriend. Just thinking about that title slowed her pace down. Tsuruga Ren liked her. Liked her enough to dump the beautiful, mature Kana-san and confess to her that same evening. To even kiss her. To call her early in the morning to try and pick her up. Kyoko giggled, blushing. She picked up her pace again, walking quickly with her head down as she lost herself in daydreams. _He kissed me_ , she thought. _He missed me last night. He-_ *wham*!

Kyoko spun left, her bag flying off her shoulder as she careened into the opposite wall. In her distracted state she had run right into Koga-san. "AH! Koga-san! I'm so sorry!" she cried out as she flailed around on the floor, trying to sweep her belongings back into her bag and avoid Koga's scathing look.

Koga stared at her coldly. He had remained standing after their impact, though she had apparently bumped him hard enough to make him lose his footing slightly and bounce off the wall. He rubbed his shoulder lightly. "If you bruised my shoulder, there won't be an end to this," he stated. "Get off the floor before someone thinks I pushed you." He went back to scrolling incessantly on his phone, not offering to help her gather her things or extending a hand in aid standing. "Crazy cannonball females," he muttered. His frown increased slightly as he stared at his phone.

Kyoko's speed increased exponentially and within seconds her things were tidied and she was standing, bowing in apology to Koga. He completely ignored her, fixated on reading an article on his phone. Kyoko sighed in internal gratefulness. It seemed like she would escape a full berating this time. She slowly turned and tiptoed away, trying not to disturb her senior again. Once out of his peripheral vision, she turned into a human rocket and fled down the hall.

Koga's muttered continued. "Who gave them the right to declare _him_ Sex God? That's complete nonsense. Did they even watch _Dark Moon_? He completely lacked sex appeal." He shook his head, his eyes steely. "Total bull." He couldn't stop thinking about it. First, that lanky oaf had been determined Most Desirable. Now, Sex God. "This has to stop," he said to himself. "But how...?" For months now, gaining recognition as the rightful Most Desirable Actor in Japan had been his obsession. This new title was a slap in the face to his efforts. He needed to change tactics, fast. But to what? _Or..._ he thought, his eyes narrowing. _To who?_ He turned in the hallway, an idea lighting up his features. "That girl- she knows that gangly monster. And well, it seems." His mind churned, working through possibilities on whether she could be used to lower his rival. She certainly wasn't the typical beauty. And she definitely had some personality quirks. There must be a way he could leverage Tsuruga Ren's odd attraction to Mogami-san for his benefit- beyond just amusement in bullying her about it. He started down the hallway after her.

Kyoko was sitting in full Momiji costume with her legs folded and eyes closed. She breathed in and out slowly, bringing to mind a different motivation for Momiji with each slow intake of breath. She clothed her subconscious in each one as she breathed, letting Momiji's personality slowly drape over her. Her limbs became more relaxed, her pose more natural. Her muscles went taunt, ready for action, belying the easy grace with which she sat.

Midway through her thought routine, the door creaked open. Koga walked through the door and sat down on the sofa opposing her, nonchalantly pulling out his phone. Kyoko opened her eyes, startled at his apparently unnecessary interruption. He wasn't due to be on set for another hour, and wasn't even in costume. "Why- why are you in the green room?" she asked.

Koga shrugged. "Nice couch. Quiet."

Kyoko stared at him. "I'm trying to prepare for filming- could you, I mean, is it possible for you to relax in the break room, Koga-san?" She bowed slightly as she said it, aware she was potentially inconveniencing him. _But after this weekend- I need space to find Momiji! I need this time!_

"You're not using this couch," he said matter-of-factly. "You've got the whole floor. Don't think just because you have a main role you can order your sempais around."

Kyoko winced. She _knew_ she was out of line. She breathed deep and tried to continue, turning around so her back faced Koga. She resumed her position and practice. _Desperate to preserve honor. Passionately in love with Shizuma. Willing to die for Shizuma._ One by one, she went back over characteristics of Momiji.

"So who's your rapper friend?" Koga asked out of the blue, his eyes still fixed to his phone.

Kyoko's back went ramrod straight, her nerves alert. _No one must know Tsuruga Ren was here!_

"Ah- what? Sorry, who?"

"That oddly dressed dude who came to pick you up yesterday. You know, the one with the camo shoes." Koga looked up at her for a brief second, gauging her respond. _Stressed. Lying. Interesting._

"Oh, him! Ah, yes. Ah, he's..." Kyoko searched for a plausible explanation. "He's my childhood friend!"

Koga snorted. "You would have that kind of friend as a kid. Fits. What's his name?"

"What? Why?" Kyoko was flustered. Why was Koga-san so interested in who had picked her up yesterday?

"Just curious. Trying to make conversation. You and I haven't exactly clicked," Koga said flatly.

Kyoko grabbed at the chance to make up her goofs in front of Koga. "Corn!" she said. She only had two real friends from childhood to draw from, and one of them was _definitely_ not an option. She said a brief prayer in her head asking Corn for forgiveness for using him in this way. _But you DID choose to steal Tsuruga-san's body when you came, so you can't blame me for using you as his decoy!_

Koga burst into laughter. "HAHA! What?! What kind of stupid name is that!" He finally put his phone down and looked at her. "Your friend's name is a vegetable?" He chuckled again, pointing at her. "That fits you perfect, haha! A rapper named after a vegetable. Your childhood friend!" He slowly settled down and looked seriously at her. "Don't bring weirdos here. It's not good for the show's image."

Kyoko's eyes widened. "Y-yes! Of course! I'll- ah, I'll ask him to not come, I'll visit him instead." _Should be easy, since this "rapper" childhood friend isn't even a real person._

"And do not date someone with such a stupid name. I'm associated with you right now and I have to guard my reputation," Koga finished, turning back to his phone.

Kyoko flushed. "No, ah, of course. I won't date C-C-Corn..." her mind filled with images of their time in Guam together as she spoke. Walking along the beach; his blonde hair shining in the summer sun; sipping that disgusting coconut drink together; his peals of laughter; his warm and loving kiss. _It wouldn't be the worst thing, though,_ she mused. _Dating a fairy prince..._ And with that, Kyoko went off into la-la-land, the rest of her short prep time a complete wash.

With such a start, her film sequences didn't go off perfectly but she only got two redos so it wasn't a complete failure. Thankfully, she hadn't had to film any scenes with Shizuma today. She wasn't quite sure what to make of Koga-san. _I need to be a better kohai to him_ , she thought. _Learn what he likes and try to take care of him. I've been awfully self-centered._ She nodded her head in affirmation and headed to her dressing room to change.

Waiting for her in her room was a large black box with a bright orange ape design on top. A note fluttered on top next to the delivery receipt. Kyoko picked up the note, eyeing the odd box slantwise. It looked strangely similar to the design Ren had on when he showed up yesterday and surprised her in her dressing room. Kyoko flushed at the memory, instinctively putting her hand over her chest as a shield. She read the note:

_Kyoko, Let's meet after work at the Shibuya Station. Wear this. I'll be in costume too- I think you'll know me when you see me, but no one else should ;-)_

Kyoko opened the box, placing the funny orange ape lid to the side. Underneath camouflage-patterned tissue paper was a white crop top with BAPE written across the chest and a shiny black miniskirt. Two hi-top white sneakers and red socks were even included. She gritted her teeth. This reminded her of Setsuka. She was absolutely positive she would not be comfortable in these clothes. What was Ren up to? She read the note again, smushing her face between her palms after she finished. "This was his plan for our daaaaaate," she moaned. She had to admit, he was right- dressing up in a costume the complete opposite of their normal style had worked perfectly for Cain and Setsu. They could probably get away with this. But Kyoko wasn't sure she was ready or willing to take on dressing up as herself in such a short skirt and a revealing top! She decided to humor him enough to at least try them on. If she couldn't wear them, she couldn't.

Swiftly changing, Kyoko stood looking at herself in the mirror with great uncertainty. Her belly button was showing! People could see her lower back! And her legs! Bare from ankle to- to- she blushed- to her upper thigh. Kyoko trembled. Just like Setsu, but without the armor of a fake character...! She shook her head. Nope, nope, nope. "I'll suggest- Santas. Let's dress up as Santa Clauses for our date. Just as different from my normal clothes! But with a big red coat! And black belt!" Kyoko picked up her phone and called Ren.

"Hey, Kyoko," he answered with a giant grin. "Did you get my package?" He wanted badly to see her dressed up in the outfit.

"Y-yes, Ren! And no, no I can't wear this!" Kyoko whined into the phone. "You can see- it's too short, it's all too short."

Ren closed his eyes and tried his damndest to visualize her. "I'm sure it's fine. They sold it in a normal clothing boutique. It can't be too short to wear in public."

"Rennnnnn," she continued to whine. "It's as short as Setsu's skirt!" His eyes widened. He _definitely_ needed her to wear this on their date.

"You did fine wearing that, remember?" he coaxed into the phone.

"And I almost got accosted by thugs! You got in a fist fight! And besides, that's not even the point. I was SETSUKA then. This is- this is me. I can't wear these things, Ren," Kyoko finished, stomping her foot.

"What if you weren't Kyoko? Or weren't all Kyoko?" he suggested, fleshing out his Plan B. "What if we both had fun on this date _and_ worked on our acting skills. I'll be a rapper on the make, ah, Sate will be my name. And you're my girlfriend."

Kyoko hesitated. "A rapper? And his girlfriend? What's my name then?"

"Hmm... Sekusha," Ren purred into the phone, just altering slightly the Japanese word for "sexy."

Blushing, Kyoko mumbled acceptance. "I... I can try. I'm done now... with work," she trailed off, not sure how to move forward.

"Great, baby," Ren said, "I'll see you there in 20."

"Baby?!" Kyoko squeaked.

"Mmm, yeah. Rapper term for his girl," Ren smirked. He was totally making half of this up, but was pretty sure it was mostly right from his memories as youth in America.

"Oh. Ok," Kyoko went with it. "See you soon..."

Kyoko hung up and looked herself up and down in the mirror one last time. She took a deep breath. It still looked just like Kyoko going out on a date, not Sekusha. She snapped her fingers. The final piece of Setsu's armor had always been her wig. She grabbed her Momiji wig and whispered an apology to the make-up department. She would take care of it like a precious treasure- but leaving here with her own hair blazing her identity was most emphatically _not_ an option. Kyoko redid the hair style into a high, slick ponytail. _Much better_ , she said to her mirror self. It was still very Kyoko, her eyes slightly uncertain and stance proper- but at the same time, different enough. She snuck out of her dressing room and through the back door to her bike, hightailing it to Shibuya.


	21. I Feel So Cold

Ren had said twenty minutes, but it only took him ten minutes to get there. He didn't even want to think about how fast he had driven out of pure excitement. He felt like a kid—like Kuon in the hamburger stones forest glade! Kyoko was coming to meet him! For a date! He almost spun in place, but remembered his persona last-second and satisfied himself with a small fist-pump. He could not wait to see her outfit. He couldn't believe his reckless wish at the BAPE store yesterday was actually coming true. He checked himself in a car window. He looked somewhat odd, but he hoped that was just because he wasn't used to this style. He turned his hat a little farther to the side and straightened, looking about eagerly for Kyoko.

She saw him first. He wasn't hard to miss—the tallest man outside the station, dressed in a green and orange camo shirt and tight black jeans with the same camo shoes he wore yesterday. A black ball cap with a silver crown shape imprinted on the front and a pair of red-rimmed thick sunglasses completed his look. She simply stared. _Not fair,_ she whined to herself. _He still looks gorgeous. How does he pull off every single look so well?_ His tight pants accentuated the lean muscles in his legs; the shirt did nothing to hide the broad width of his shoulders. Even beneath the glasses and hat his strong jaw and perfectly cut nose proved the beauty of his face. She pulled down on her shirt, trying to get it to meet the hem of her skirt. She felt woefully inadequate and wondered for the umpteenth time what was wrong with his eyes that he wanted to go on a date with her.

Ren saw her when she broke through the crowd next to the stairs. He burst into a wide grin, starting for her immediately. She froze and waited for him, fidgeting with her skirt hem. Ren was thankful for his dark sunglasses. He could not stop staring. _How did I get so lucky?_ he thrilled inside. Her long, slim legs looked like they went on for miles in that skirt. Her stomach muscles had grown taut with the extreme practice necessary for Momiji, their shapes flexing and shifting each time she shifted. The ponytail she had chosen brushed over her back, making him jealous of its ability to so effortlessly touch her skin. She was stunning. He became intensely aware of every other male in the crowd. _Dangerously stunning_.

"H-hi…" she whispered, looking up at him sideways. Ren wanted to groan. Her innocence with that outfit… he clenched one hand into a fist, throwing his desire to wrap her in a fierce hug and slam his lips onto her in possessiveness into his hand.

"Hey, baby," he said simply, smiling down at her. He gently reached out and touched her face. She flinched slightly. She felt so exposed! He stroked her cheek to try and calm her, leaving her face to take her hand. "Wanna go shopping?"

Kyoko nodded. This was turning out just as excruciating as shopping with Cain had been, but she didn't have a mask to hide beneath. What was she supposed to do with these emotions? How was she supposed to walk comfortably in this skirt? What if a breeze hit? Kyoko walked stiltingly, trying to move her hips as little as possible. Ren watched her, slightly concerned. "Are you really uncomfortable?" he asked. He knew she had been fine as Setsu and wasn't sure what the source of her struggle was.

"I just… it's very hard to walk, I guess. I feel like everyone is staring at me," Kyoko mumbled.

"The only one that matters is me," Ren told her, squeezing her hand. "And I think you look beautiful."

Kyoko blushed and turned her face away. He shouldn't say those things in public! "I don't—I'm not sure—"

Ren watched her. "Would it help if we gave Sekusha a backstory?" he offered.

"Yes! Yes!" Kyoko lit up. As Setsu, she could fall back onto brother love for any uncomfortable moment. A backstory would give life to Sekusha; would make indwelling her possible. "What is she like? This… rapper's girlfriend?"

Ren smiled, thinking. "She's an actress—they met when she was cast in Sate's first MV. She's a highly skilled MMA fighter. Doesn't give a damn about anyone's opinions—not even really her boyfriend's. She lives for thrills, which is why she got into MMA," he paused, thinking.

"And she's crazy about Sate," Kyoko finished for him, lacing her fingers more tightly through Ren's. He grinned down at her, raising his sunglasses up to see her clearly.

"Perfect," he said, winking.

Kyoko stood very still, considering the character. Fierce- a fighter. But with a caring side, devoted to another person. And yet viciously independent. Strong, confident, indestructible. As she worked through each piece her stance shifted slightly. Ren watched, fascinated as her hands went slack, dropping from where she had been incessantly pulling down at her hemlines to rest by her side—then flexed, shaping fists and then stretching outwards. One rose to rest on her hip, gliding with it as her hip cocked out slightly. The other draped casually by her leg. Her jaw clenched as her lips curled into a sexy, confident smile. Her eyes opened, alive with a fire and a challenge. She looked up at him, raising her chin and winking with a naughty gleam. He could live off of watching Kyoko act. He let Sate rise in him as well until he matched her cockiness with his own swagger, draping his arm over her shoulder in a lazy but possessive embrace.

"Yo, babe," he drawled. "Lookin' damn fine." He lowered his glasses to openly stare at her cleavage, curling his lip at her. She drew back and punched him squarely in the gut. He bent forward slightly, a short laugh slammed out of him.

"I'm not meat, jerk-off," she slammed at him, her rude words cut by the lustful look in her eyes. "That's your job."

She shoved his arm off and walked ahead of him, her back straight but hips swaying. She looked strong, and confident. Sate bit his lip, his eyes partially closed with amusement and desire. He licked his lips as he stood, taking his time to adjust his cap before he followed after her.


	22. I Long For Your Embrace

By the time Sate caught up with her, Sekusha had found a sportswear store, climbed into the display, and was busily disrobing one of the mannequins. She had its ball cap on her head, the American baseball team logo tilted slightly to the right. She'd wrapped the large gold chain around her wrist, making a bracelet with four thick, chunky layers. It clanked as she reached around for the mannequin's watch. She caught Sate's eyes and grinned wildly, striking a pose with her arms up and clenched, showing off her muscles. He pretended to do a left jab at her, smirking.

The store clerk had caught on to her antics and was standing behind her, waving his arms trying to get her to climb down. He was getting increasingly worked up— Sate couldn't hear his words but laughed out loud at how Sekusha was mimicking him. She saw him watching and decided to put on a show. She just loved getting Sate all worked up!

Sekusha turned around to face the clerk, gesturing at him to calm him down. She purposefully bent forward slowly, leaning down towards him but keeping her back and legs perfectly straight. Her skirt inched up bit by bit as she leaned forward. Sate felt his breath catch as more of her upper thighs showed. _She wouldn't keep going... right?_ As Sekusha continued to lean towards the clerk, talking to him in words he couldn't hear, Sate felt a burning need to stop her. He saw the tiniest bit of pink, lacy underwear and ran into the store, whipping around the display. The clerk flew back astounded when Sate yanked on his collar, shoving him behind and away.

"Get down," he growled. "The show is done."

"Show? You haven't seen a show yet, boy." Sekusha smiled wildly and turned to bow to the crowd in the street, flashing Sate a quick view of her hot pink underwear and pert cheeks. Sate grunted and grabbed her by the waist, hauling her out of the display.

"Those pranks are for me. Only," he warned, setting her down.

She turned and flashed a grin at him, shaking her giant bracelet-necklace at him. "I like the bling— let me see it on you."

Sate frowned at her. "Baby, listen—" but cut himself off as she stood on tiptoes and slowly slid the necklace over his head. Her entire body pressed up against him as she stretched, reaching as high as she could to set it around his shoulders. She smirked at him, smoothing the gold chain flat and letting her fingers rest tauntingly on his chest muscles.

"Picked that out just for you, daddy," Sekusha purred.

Sate didn't know where she'd picked up _that_ particular piece of slang but the timbre of her soft, low voice as she called him by it made him weak in the knees. Oh, how this woman could play him...

He turned to look at himself in the store mirror. The clerk had recovered by now and rushed over. "You need to leave now, or I will call mall security!" he threatened, holding his cell phone up as if to prove he had their number.

Sate laughed. He liked the way the chain looked- and liked the way her hands had run down his chest, tracing it's length even more. _Maybe she'll do it again at home,_ he thought, _without this shirt underneath._ "Yo, chill brah," he said, dismissing the clerk's anxiety. "My girl just wanted this chain for me. Rack it up— now. We gots to be rollin'." He handed his card to the man, his eyes fixated on Sekusha's reflection in the mirror. He saw her watching him and let his eyes roam slowly up her body. She smirked, walked forward, and smacked his butt.

"Let's go, daddy," she called over her shoulder as she left. "I'm getting bored."

Sate whopped and grabbed his card back from the waiting clerk. "Peace, brah!" he called. "Nice shit you got here!"

Sekusha was waiting for him at the entrance and leaned against his side, intertwining her hand with his as they walked. His new chain softly bounced on his chest to their rhythmic pace, the gold gleaming in the mall light. Occasionally she would reach up and finger it, smirking at the memory of the clerk. Whenever she saw a store that interested her, she would drop his hand like a hot coal and dash over, a wide smile lighting up her face. She was carefree, gorgeous, and didn't give one hot damn about anyone's opinion. She was here to have fun— and he was going to make sure that smile never left her face.

They ransacked the clearance section of a suit store, Sate doing Scarface impressions while Sekusha lounged spread-eagle on the dressing room chairs. She laughed each time he whipped around in a new suit, yelling, "Say hello to my lil frahnd!" He was ridiculous and charming and full of a natural swagger. She loved how he could drop her to the floor with a smoldering look— or with a bout of laughter. She never quite knew what was coming and it thrilled her.

They were wandering, mocking other couples and listening to Snoop Dog, his pair of earbuds shared between them as they walked hand-in-hand, when she squealed. "Oh GOD, Sate— KARAOKE!" She ripped the ear bud out of her ear and bounded over to the karaoke bar. He rolled his eyes at her.

"Giiirrrrrl, you best quit playin' me. I ain't singing someone else's lame-ass songs," he moaned. A rapper had his pride to consider. He squinted suspiciously at the cashier. No way this joint had anything on their playlist worthy of his talent.

"Sate, you know how your voice turns me on," she said, slowly sauntering back over to him. "I've been needing to hear it since your last concert. We could always turn off their shit pieces and just let you run with it, daddy."

"Mmmm... baby, when you put it like that," he said, watching her over the top of his glasses as she played with the sleeve of his shirt. He cracked his neck and walked up to the cashier.

"Room for two. Private," he ordered. The cashier looked at both of them and widened his eyes.

"Ah, ID please?" he croaked out, his voice cracking slightly.

"Hah, yo— you must be pullin' my chain, we good." Sate wasn't about to pull his Tsuruga Ren I.D. card out for this kid.

Sekusha strolled up, playing with and apparently studying the nails on her finger as she came close. She leaned back against the counter lazily, giving Sate a quick wink. She braced her elbows on the counter-top, leaning her head back and slowly rolling it from side to side, giving the teenage clerk a full view of her perfect chest as it pushed against the tight white fabric of her shirt. She stopped and crooked her head at him, smiling lazily before sucking her bottom lip in and biting it. She released it with a smack, slowly flipping to face the clerk. He swallowed, still staring at her chest where she'd pinned her breasts between her elbows as she leaned casually on the counter.

"We good?" she purred, her hand lowering toward his. She let her fingers trace over the counter-top just in front of his and Sate smirked as he saw the teen's hand jump.

"Y-y-yes, ma'am," he said, trying to smile but still making eye contact with her chest instead of her actual eyes.

"Room...?" Sekusha's voice was liquid smooth as she kept swirling her fingers just centimeters away from his.

"Ah— uh— room six is yours," the clerk sputtered, hitting a couple keys on the keyboard with his unoccupied hand.

"Sweet," she said. Sekusha turned and sauntered away to the room, pausing once to look back and wink at them both.

Sate grinned at the clerk, waiting for him to wake up. The boy blinked, watching Sekusha walk away. Sate leaned in, hands in his pockets, until the boy jumped and stared at him.

"She's mine, b*tch," he growled, letting his jealousy at the free show the boy had gotten roar out at the poor kid with full-force darkness. The room temperature dropped as Sate stared at the clerk, his body held in check by sheer force of will. He bit off his words with a snarl. "You even dream about touching her and I'll F you up, got me?"

The teen's eyes were wide as he bowed his head at Sate. "Yes sir, sorry sir. No, sir I mean. I mean— I won't sir."

Sate rolled his shoulders, stepping back once. He grinned at the kid, raising his chin slightly. "Yeah, we cool," he said, turning to walk away. "Remember," he called over his shoulder. "Private. Room."

Sekusha had already completely taken control of the karaoke machine by the time he got there. She turned and grinned at him. "Like the room I got us?" she teased him. Sate just grunted and walked over to her.

"Yeah, baby," he murmured as he towered over her from behind. He leaned low to whisper in her ear. "But you better not forget... you're Sate's girl. Don't even mess with another man."

Sekusha cast him a look over her shoulder that could've cut diamonds. With ice in her voice, she returned, "Make me."

Sate cupped his hand around her chin and pulled her face upwards. "I don't want to make you, Sekusha. I want you to want it that way." He dropped her chin and walked over to the couch, throwing himself down. He draped his arms and legs over the seat, spread out and waiting on her next move. Her presence filled him with pure adrenaline. _Who needs f'ing street drugs_ , he thought, _when she's got me on edge and high as a kite just by talking to a friggin clerk._

Sekusha held her ground, her hands on her hips as she watched his display. She smiled at him knowingly. God she loved this man. Moody and possessive but so totally _hers._ She knew how to have some fun with this current pout of his. Turning to the music selection, she chose one she knew he'd love to see her dance to.

_Sure she got a body like an hourglass  
_ _But I can give it to you all the time  
_ _Sure she got a booty like a Cadillac  
_ _But I can send you into overdrive_

Sekusha could _dance._ She let the music flow through her body, her trained muscles responding to the beat with liquid precision. She twisted and sank, supporting herself just above the ground as she swirled her hips. She kept her eyes locked with Sate's and a wicked smile on her lips. Nicki Minaj's words flashed across the screen at rapid fire and Sekusha caught them all as she twisted her body back up, turning to bend over and shake, her ponytail whipping around her shoulder.

Sate sat up straight, his eyes glued to her as she moved. He wanted to leap off the seat and join her— grab her— pull that sweet ass against him and feel her move. But he knew this game and that would ruin their fun. She could try and make him come to her, but he wasn't going to budge. She was going to come to him.

Sekusha hit the chorus, laughing over her shoulder as she ground her hips and rattled off the words freely, her eyes inviting.

_Bang bang into the room  
_ _I know you want it  
_ _Bang bang all over you  
_ _I'll let you have it_

She turned back to face him, singing, "Wait a minute- let me take you there, ah," as she pulled her hips from side to side, slowly walking forward and tracing her hands up her torso. Her finger caught her crop-top hem, edging it up slightly before she let go and Sate was finished.

He flew off the couch like a tightly wound spring and was at her side in two steps. He wrapped his hands around her bare waist and pulled her to him, leaning down to kiss her. The music faded away, their characters faded away, and it was just Ren and Kyoko, standing, touching, kissing in the dimly lit room. Ren broke the kiss and pulled back, breathing heavily.

"You... how did you learn to dance like that?" he asked, his eyes slightly clouded with need as he studied her face. He wanted to see more, wanted her to move against him, to kiss him back. He stroked her bare skin, unable to keep himself from moving. Kyoko gasped, blushing.

 _Oh no oh no what do I do?! What was I doing! Why do I always let the character take me so far!_ she moaned mentally. She looked at the door, and back at Ren. There was no escape. Outside, the world waited to see her in this skimpy outfit. Inside, Ren had broken character and she was with the Emperor in this skimpy outfit. She started to freak out, then realized one person would know what to do. Or rather, wouldn't care _what_ she did, as long as it was fun. "Sekusha," she whispered under her breath, "just get me through the night."

Sekusha smirked up at Ren. "I win!" she said triumphantly. "You came to me. First round's on you." She laughed. "No— every round is on you!"

She pushed the call button and ordered four Sex on the Beach (because that sounded fun) and two Rum and Cokes (because she actually knew what those were). Ren stared at her. "But you're— not 20 yet, ah, right?" he asked. He honestly didn't know who to address the question to. Sekusha was back... but should she be?

"Since when have you cared, Sate?" Sekusha threw at him over her shoulder. "Besides, you lost. My turn to pick the next song!" Sekusha scrolled and yipped with glee when she found a classic by Usher. "Ooooh, babe I can't wait to hear your voice."

The waiter dropped off their order, filling the table with drinks. Sekusha grabbed a Sex on the Beach and immediately took a sip, exclaiming with joy at the taste. "Oh my goooood, so much better than coconut water!" She laughed and pushed play for his song. He still stood on the stage, watching her. He was entranced.

"Sing to me," she called, leaning back in the seat with her brightly colored drink. "I want you to move me with your voice."

The music started and Ren took off his sunglasses to look at her. He pulled his hat off and threw it to the floor, running his fingers through his hair. She smiled at him, sipping her drink. Her eyes were so alive. She was waiting for him to sing.

The words started to scroll up the screen and he shifted, clearing his throat. He knew Usher's works from his childhood. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, opening them to look directly at her. His light./

_When you feel it in your body  
_ _You found somebody who makes you change your ways  
_ _Like hanging with your crew  
_ _Said you act like you're ready  
_ _But you don't really know  
_ _And everything in your past, you wanna let it go_

He wanted to let go of the past. He wanted to embrace the past. He wanted his past to be wiped clean by her, to be made new, reshaped and reborn into her acceptance and love. His eyes drilled into her, craving acknowledgment.

_I've been there, done it, f*cked around  
_ _After all that, this is what I found  
_ _Nobody wants to be alone_

Sekusha let the straw from her drink fall out of her mouth. His voice was beautiful. She had chosen Usher because she wanted to force him to use it— not to just rap at her, but to sing with his soul. She felt like she was melting under his stare. His voice, strong and lower than Usher's but perfectly clear, filled the air around her. He filled each note with emotion, as if the words he sang came straight from his heart as not a song she had grabbed by chance.

_If you're touched by the words in this song  
_ _Then baby  
_ _You got it, you got it bad_

He had stayed so still, but now as he sang the chorus he started slowly walking towards her. She felt her heart start to beat faster with the rhythm of his voice, each syncopated note rolling off his tongue and to her heart. He reached for her and she smiled, setting her drink down. She clasped his outstretched arm and stood, walking straight over the low table to join him. He pulled her tight against him, swaying back and forth in a simple and sensuous slow dance as he sang.

_When you say that you love 'em  
_ _And you really know  
_ _Everything that used to matter, it don't matter no more  
_ _Like my money, all my cars  
_ _(You can have it all)  
_ _Flowers, cards and candy_

Her head felt slightly fuzzy from the drink and she smiled, full of pure joy in the moment. She leaned into his chest, running her hand over his shoulder. He sang softer, just for her to hear, his lips moving just beside her ear.

_Said I'm fortunate to have you girl  
_ _I want you to know  
_ _I really adore you_

He could hit each separate note perfectly, his tone rising and falling like a rushing stream. She loved it and hummed along, swaying to the music in his embrace. At the final chorus, Ren cupped her chin and gently raised her head off his chest, slowly and lovingly kissing her as Usher sang in the background, "You got it bad."

The music wrapped up as they kissed. Silence fell on the room, the neon lights swirling and reflecting in the mirrors without a background beat. Ren didn't want to let her go. He made to pull her closer but Sekusha suddenly pushed back, her eyes aglow. She clapped her hands together— "Amazing! I knew you were awesome, but that singing amazing! You should do R&B, not just rap you lazy fool!" She ran back to the couch and grabbed her drink, racing back over to him and holding it out with a knowing grin. "Try this— I'm gonna pick us another song."

Ren felt dizzy. Her sudden leap into action disoriented him. He connected with those lyrics so deeply he had completely lost Sate. Sekusha's energy was dominating him and he was too stunned to do anything except obey. He took a good long draw on her drink— it was good, like she'd said— and turned to watch her pick the next song.

"Sit! Sit!" she motioned. "My turn!" Ren went and sat, finished with her drink before he reached the seat. He grabbed a rum and Coke for himself and waited for her to sing.


	23. I Keep Cryin'

Sekusha bounced with glee as the starting beats of "Fancy" cued up. "Saaaaaate, I love this song!" She threw her head back, laughing and singing and bending with the sharp rhythm as she danced. She was light itself, a fountain of life at the front of the room.

Ren sat and stared. His drink dripped condensation onto his fingertips, the water etching a path down his skin as her voice etched a new memory in his mind. He took a sip, his eyes never leaving her face as she sang. She was beautiful. She was thrilling. She was… Sekusha. _Goddamnit_ , he thought. _What do I have to do to get Kyoko to come back?_ He raised his half-forgotten drink to his lips, his brow furrowed as he stared at her over the rim. The drink was cold and strong, a rush of sugar and liquor.

 _It's just us_ , he scowled. _Me, and my girlfriend. A private room._

But it wasn't. It was him and an uninvited guest he had created. Like a friend you invite on your first date to help you not be nervous – but then the date goes great and the friend still won't leave. _Cock-blocker,_ Ren thought darkly. _Except the cock-blocker is my own girlfriend's alter ego—which I created!_ Sekusha wound her long, dark hair around her hand, her hips swaying side to side as she strutted over towards him while she sang. Her lips were full and red, her eyes dancing as she studied his face. Ren closed his eyes.

Sekusha couldn't help but notice his mood shift. Sate was all over the place tonight. _What a high-maintenance boyfriend,_ she chuckled as she let her hands roam over her own body. _If he wasn't so hot and such a damn good singer, I might go check on that cashier kid instead._ She smirked. Who was she kidding? Emotions and all, Sate was the only one for her. His depth and unpredictability was just a part of the package, one she wouldn't get tired of even if the gods granted her a thousand lifetimes with him. But tonight, something in Usher's lyrics had set him off and even her best attempts at a lighter mood weren't working. _Good thing I know one thing that always does._

Sekusha stood over him, bending forward at the hips with her legs straight to reach down and slowly pull the glass from his clasped fist. Ren's eyes fluttered open at her movement to stare right at the top of the most perfect pair of white mounds in a red lacey bra he'd ever glimpsed down the collar of a shirt. He gulped, his hands involuntarily moving upwards to touch. A short laugh froze him. Her breath was on his neck as she whispered teasingly, "Like your view, Sate?"

Sekusha slowly moved her hips towards him, her chest raising slightly, even closer to his face. She rested her arms on his shoulders, clasping her hands together in the air behind his head.

_Trash the hotel_

_Let's get drunk on the mini bar_

_Make the phone call_

_Feels so good getting what I want, yeah_

The music blared in the background, lights spinning and flashing purple and red all around them.

Sekusha let herself slowly sit down on Ren's lap, straddling him. She grabbed his drink and finished it off, licking her lips as she sat the empty glass on the table. Sekusha leaned back so she could see his face. His eyes were wide and full of emotion as he watched her, waiting for some cue. She smirked and scooched forward, bringing her hips to rest against his in one smooth motion. He let out a long breath, closing his eyes as she started to slowly grind against him, her hands playing with his hair. She bounced slightly as she ground, letting her butt hit his legs in time with the rapid beat of the lyrics.

_Still stunting how you love that_

_Got the whole world asking how I does that_

_Hot girl, hands off, don't touch that_

_Look at that bet you wishing you could clutch that_

Sekusha moved back slightly and Ren moaned, grabbing for her hips to keep her close. She smacked his wrist and brought her leg high, swiping it over and above his face and spinning herself around to sit facing away from him. Kyoko needed space from his expressions or she was going to lose her mind—and Sekusha wanted to try a different angle and see how he'd react.

_Just the way you like it, huh?_

_You're so good, he's just wishing he could bite it, huh?_

Sekusha ground her butt backwards into his hips, her cheeks pushing against his center. She raised her arms up into her hair, letting it fall across them as she moved against him. He gritted his teeth with the effort to not grab her and slam her against himself, wanting to smother her with his raw need. Sekusha leaned forward, pushing her ass even tighter against him as she reached for another drink. She felt a hotness behind her, pushing against her. Something inside her stirred and she felt torn between desperately needing to move away and wanting to plunge that hotness deep inside herself. She opted for somewhere in the middle as she threw her head back and chugged the drink, sitting up against him and feeling the heat shift beneath her. _More drink!_ she thought blindly.

Ren felt like he was about to burst. She was pulling him apart. Her small, tight ass ground against him as her long, lean back muscles shifted and begged him to kiss them. He felt himself respond, growing larger as she moved back and forth, up and down. He wanted more touch—more of her- "God, Kyoko…" he moaned.

Sekusha ground harder against him, slamming down the now-empty glass. "It's Sekusha," she purred.

Ren's face snapped up, lust forgotten as anger swallowed him. _How dare she make even this an act—_ he started to raise his voice and demand she snap out of it when the room spun slightly. He braced himself, suddenly aware of how much he had drank. Sekusha turned and looked at him, a half-assed smile on her face as she patted his cheek. "Sekuuuuuusha!" she cheered.

Ren face-palmed himself. "You're totally wasted," he groaned into his hand. How had he let this happen? She was a minor for god's sake! And here he was, buying her alcohol and letting her give him a lap dance in a private club room. _Shit shit shit shit._ They had to get out of public view immediately; he completely lost control tonight and could not risk anyone finding them.

"Kyoko, we gotta—" Ren began.

"Shhh! Stop calling me thaaaat!" Sekusha giggled. "Every time you call me by that name… I'm gonna do something naaaughty!" Sekusha's voice came out sing-song as she leaned back against him, her fingers tracing his jawline. "Wanna see me strip?"

 _Gods, yes,_ thought Ren. _But not here._ "I need to take you home."

"Mmm—no. I'm coming with youuuu!" Sekusha stood up, swaying, and pulled Ren to his feet. "Where you are, is right where IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WANNA BE!" She trailed off into loud singing, spinning until she fell against Ren's chest. She laughed, tracing her fingers over his shirt. "So *hic* where are you going? *hic* Or I mean—where are we going?"

Ren held her tight against him. Her skirt was riding up – if that was even possible – her hair was askew, her questions were totally inappropriate and her speech was defitnitely slurred.

If he took her home like this, Taisho would never let him see her again. He might even impale him on his santoku knife on sight. Ren paled at the thought.

"Let's go… home, Kyoko." Ren sighed, pulling her against him as he led her out the door. It wasn't the way he envisioned bringing her home after their first date, but he'd gotten them into this and he was going to get them out. Honor intact. He looked down at her as she smiled up at him, her fingers slowly working their way under her shirt and her red bra peeking out beneath the rim of her white crop-top. _At least I hope honor intact._ She tickled him right below his belly button, giggling, and he swallowed hard. _At least… at least… I'm going to try… I think._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! It's been mental at work lately! But I'm actually thankful for the break as I accidentally deleted all my story notes during it and started afresh - and I'M REALLY EXCITED. Thanks for waiting you wonderful fellow lovers of (the actual owner of Skip Beat) Nakamura-sensei! And now... we head to Ren's house. With Sekusha? Or... Kyoko? ;-)


	24. Baby, Baby Please

The entire taxi ride Ren was paranoid that the taxi driver would suddenly reveal his alternate persona Paparazzi and start snapping pictures. He couldn't possibly relax—not with what Kyoko was up to. She hadn't stopped trying to put her hands under his clothing, any part of his clothing, since they sat down next to each other in the back seat. Her face was nuzzled into the crook of his neck, perfectly angled so every exhale sent shivers down his spine as her warm breath stirred his hair and caressed his skin. Her hands roamed over his body, moving from button to button trying to undo each one. He gently stopped her each time, but couldn't make himself stop her from moving on to the next one. Her roving hands stirred a deep need inside him, a need he desperately wanted to fill. But not here. And not this way.

But the temptation to let her get part of what she seemed to want was beyond bearing. He trembled as she slid her hand under his shirt, her fingers spreading out across his lower abdomen. "Mmmm," she purred. "So hard." He felt another part of him grow hard at the sound of her soft, low voice and prayed she wouldn't notice. He tried to inch his hips away from her without moving his upper half, but only succeeded in moving his upper torso closer to her lips. She giggled as she felt his skin brush against her lips, whispering one simple word: "Closer."

Her hand snaked around his waist, tugging at him and trying to pull him against her. He held back, knowing he was mere seconds away from losing complete control and throwing himself on top her in the back of the moving taxi. She pouted into his neck. "Closer, I said," her other hand reaching out to pull on his upper thigh.

The taxi pulled up in front of his apartment building and Ren launched himself out the side door. Kyoko started to slide down the seat but he reached back in and grabbed her gently, lifting her just enough to move her across the seat to where he could fully pick her up to standing. He held her against him and reached through the window to pay the driver, who leered at Kyoko's exposed midriff. Ren scowled, throwing the change on the seat and moving his arms to cross over her midsection, covering it from view. The taxi driver smiled knowingly and drove away.

Ren and Kyoko stood – or rather, Ren stood and Kyoko leaned – in the middle of the sidewalk for a heartbeat as Ren tried to gather his thoughts for the journey up to his penthouse apartment. He was bringing Kyoko home as his girlfriend for the first time. _Coulda been more romantic, that's for sure,_ he sighed. Just then Kyoko shifted in his arms, turning herself around inside his embrace to face him.

"This is just like Cain and Setsu," she purred, "when you held me inside your arms in the hallway." Ren flushed, remembering his desperate need for a spiritual anchor. He had been in danger of losing his essence that night… and here she was. His center. His anchor. His light.

"No…no," she shook her head. He watched her, confused. "No, that was them," she continued. "This is more like…" she stopped, remembering when Ren had held her tightly in the park the night she was disavowed by Saena.

"No, not then either… that was Corn and me." Ren frowned slightly, puzzled. What was she remembering?

"This is just… us," Kyoko finished, snuggling her head down into the center of Ren's chest. "Just us."

Ren blushed red-hot. "Us…" he repeated.

A man rode past them suddenly on his bike and Ren flinched, shifting to shield Kyoko from view. "We have to get inside, Kyoko," he whispered. "It's not safe here." He knew the cost to her if they were discovered by paparazzi now and started walking rapidly towards the double doors, half-carrying her along with him. She merely nodded, her fingers still under his shirt tracing small circles as she smiled sleepily.

Ren actually did have to carry her from the elevator into his room. She'd gotten so comfortable standing next to him in the elevator as they rose higher and higher that she'd started to slump to the floor, still smiling, still tracing her hands on his body as she slid. Ren gulped and grabbed her up into his arms before she got too low, cradling her against his chest securely. He grunted as he held her up with one arm to unlock and open the door, holding it ajar with his foot as he shimmied inside.

The apartment was as tidy and sterile as ever. But tonight… she was here. The normally barren white furniture and minimalist décor seemed enhanced into a Scandinavian wonderland by her presence. He carried her over to the small sofa and gently laid her down, standing.

He made to stand but froze, his breath caught as he took in the sight before him. Kyoko lay on his couch, one foot propped up against the cushions and the other draped over the side. A small, satisfied smile spread across her face as her hand rested on her chest. Her entire stomach was exposed before him, light lines tracing the contours of her muscles from hours of martial arts work. Her shirt was hitched up from where his arms had held her, exposing not just her stomach but her lower ribs and almost the edge of her bra. If he moved it just a tiny bit more, he could—he felt his hand twitch, aching to push the shirt up. Or the skirt down. The small black miniskirt looked like more of a censorship band right now with the way her leg was propped up against the cushion, wrinkling the skirt up her thigh. If he just shifted slightly to the right he would see her underwear clearly below the hem. He felt his foot start to move involuntarily to the right and forced himself to take a shuddering breath.

 _Our first time will be on purpose. On purpose. Sober. And on purpose._ He repeated his mantra over and over as he leaned close to Kyoko, gently pulling down on her shirt to cover more of her chest. Kyoko shifted at his touch. Her eyes fluttered open again and she beamed at him. "Ren…" she muttered. "You're here…" She reached out for him and pulled his lips to hers, her mouth open and eager for his.

Ren let out a gasp of protest before surrendering. His lips ground against hers, tasting her sweetness as she lay beneath him. He wanted more. He wanted her bare before him. Now. He licked her lips with his tongue, pushing against them and demanding she part before him. His hand that had been working to lower her shirt now shoved up underneath it, covering her right breast completely and kneading as he moaned into her mouth. She gasped as he closed his fingers around her breast, giving him the access he wanted into her mouth. His tongue leapt against hers, exploring her mouth and chasing her breath. She pushed up against his hand, her back arching as they kissed deeply.

Their panting breaths filled the silence of his apartment. He kneeled beside the couch, freeing the hand he'd used to support himself above her to grasp her ponytail and slide the Momiji wig off. Her blonde waves sprung free and he raked his fingers through them, sending tingles across her scalp. She moaned into his kiss. Her own hands lifted, tracing his chest, squeezing his taut muscles, rubbing down and around his shoulders. He was covering her and consuming her. It wasn't enough. She felt her body move against his hand as he cupped her breast through the bra. _Too much between us,_ she thought, not sure what she meant but knowing it was true. "Off," she panted. "Off!"

The word registered in Ren's mind and he sprang backwards. "I'm sorry, I went too far, I'll stop—"

"No," she interrupted him, "not you—this—" she felt incoherent but didn't care. She tried to pull the crop top off and over her head by herself but couldn't find her balance. "This—"

Ren's mind cleared. "We have to stop. Kyoko, this isn't how we want to do this—"

"Off, take it off me!" Kyoko whined, getting herself stuck in the collar of the white shirt.

Ren covered his eyes. He had to be the one to stop this. He was the legal drinker here, after all. He snuck a peek at her, writhing on the couch as she tried to pull the tight crop top off. Flashes of her lacy bra kept taunting him, begging him to help her, to just do what she wanted, to just do what _he_ wanted.


	25. Oh, Can't You See

Ren groaned and muttered at himself under his breath as he picked up the flailing Kyoko and carried her in his arms into the bedroom. "Sex God," he pouted, "that nickname is coming back to bite me." His brain and his manhood were at war within him as he held her close.

 _Underage_. Tick, one for sleeping on the couch.

 _Drunk_. Tick, two for sleeping on the couch.

 _Informed_ _consent_. Tick, three for sleeping on the couch.

 _Romance_.

Ah, _romance._ He gently placed Kyoko on the bed. The rocking motion of his long stride as he walked into the bedroom had apparently lulled her into a light sleep. He adjusted the pillow underneath her head and sat down carefully on the side of the bed next to her, letting his fingers gently caress her forehead. Even if none of the other reasons for leaving her here and sleeping in the other room were valid, romance alone would make him pause. His Kyoko was a lifelong inhabitant of fairytales and happy endings. _Though,_ he thought, a wrinkle of concern creasing his smooth forehead, _she hasn't had nearly her fair share of happiness._ He paused the movement of his fingers, resting his hand near her temple.

"We will have our happy ending, Kyoko. You will know – the world will know – that you are my beloved, the fairest in the land, and the rightful Queen of the Fairies." He smiled self-deprecatingly at the stream of sappiness that had just rolled off his tongue. And yet, when it was her, he wanted it all to be true. He wanted to truly become her Fairy Prince, to soar on a magic carpet holding hands, to ride off into the sunset wearing the most absurdly brocaded wedding suit ever tailored.

"And now that I am beginning to sound like Lory-san," he laughed at himself, "I wish you goodnight. My love." He leaned forward and lightly kissed her forehead. Kyoko shifted beneath him, a low, content sigh escaping from her lips. She rolled onto her side and wrapped herself around his pillow as he stood, burying her face in its cottony plushness.

Ren walked to the door, turning to just stand and look at her before leaving. The night had been such a whirlwind but now it was ending and she was here. With him. He almost couldn't believe how happy he felt. He felt a sudden wave of insecurity wash over him as his old darkness threatened to rise. Every time peace started to take root in his life, he ended up self-destructing and pushing away the source. He clasped his right wrist, his eyes burning as he watched Kyoko.

"Not this time, Kuon," he whispered to himself, his voice raw. "We need her." He gritted his teeth, his head involuntarily twisting sideways as he wrestled with himself. "I know… I don't deserve her. I know… she doesn't even know me—" Ren cut himself off as tears threatened to fall from the corners of his eyes. He looked desperately over at Kyoko, snuggling his pillow in blissful ignorance. _How long? How long can I have you?_ The darkness inside him whispered that he couldn't ever truly have her, that even tonight he didn't actually have her. Just as Ren had been left alone with Sekusha, a shell and a mockery of the woman he loved, so Kyoko was left with Tsuruga Ren.

A shell.

A… mockery?

Ren slumped down to the floor, his back braced against the doorframe. Was he doing to her the same thing he'd experienced tonight? Was he going to be the cause of their implosion? He couldn't have borne with Sekusha's control over Kyoko a moment longer. Did he have any right to ask Kyoko to do the same for him when he had no actual plan to tell her the truth? To let his true self free?

"God, who am I anyways?" Ren cradled his head in his hands.

"Corn…" a small, happy voice muffled by pillows came from his bed. Ren jerked. His entire body felt alive with fire. She knew who he was? She knew?! He twisted to stare over at the bed.

"Kyoko, you—" he began, but her sweet voice interrupted him.

"I brought you a hamburger!" she laughed liltingly.

"A—what? Hamburger?" but again she interrupted before he could finish his thought.

"Don't eat it!" Kyoko rolled over, dragging the pillow with her. Her face was suffused with joy, her eyes closed and her smile bright. "It's a rock! Unless your magic can make it real…?!" Kyoko's legs kicked in anticipation of seeing magic.

"I don't know what you mean, Kyoko, I don't have magic." Ren started to slowly stand, wanting to see her face. _She knows._

"Oh, Corn, don't be modest. You do," she yawned. "I've seen you fly."

Ren walked to the side of the bed. Kyoko's eyes were still peacefully closed, her smile slightly wonky. "I've seen you flllllyyy…" she whispered, drawing out the last word as she drifted off into deep sleep.

Ren's laugh was short and soft. Sleep-talking.

But she was right, wasn't she? He has flown. For her. More than once.

Ren walked into the bathroom and flicked on the nightlight. His features were barely illuminated by the small bulb, but he could see his eyes clear enough. He stared into them, looking for the thin blue line of contact that proved he hid himself behind Tsuruga Ren.

"You," he said deliberately to himself. "You have flown for her." Slowly, he started removing the colored contacts he always wore. "Not Ren Tsuruga. Not Cain Heel." He placed the contacts in their case, screwing the lid tightly shut. "Kuon Hizuri."

Ren leaned forward towards his reflection, bracing himself on the counter. His eyes shone a rich, deep green in the dim light. "Fly once more, Kuon."

Kuon turned off the light and walked out into the darkness.

The morning light streamed through the French doors leading from his balcony into the living room, waking him at the crack of dawn. Kuon rubbed his eyes blearily. He'd only gotten a few hours of sleep. He sat up, cracking his neck and back as he tried to unkink his muscles from the tight sleeping position necessitated by his smaller couch. He stood and quietly walked into the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of black coffee.

While the water heated, Kuon thought. He wanted to tell her. He knew now that he needed to tell her—and fast. The longer he waited, the heavier the weight on both of them. She deserved truth. She deserved a real relationship. She deserved someone who could fly with her. And if truth meant that she couldn't accept him, then so be it. He felt his heart clench in protest, but he was done with living in fear. He smiled down at his hands as he held the empty coffee cup. _Maybe she's right,_ he thought, _and I do have some magic in me. God knows I'm going to need something magical to get this right._

Magic…

Kuon's many years of living as Ren started to click into gear as he considered the ramifications to her tight schedule today if he blew open a massive secret like this with a mere "Good morning, dear, I'm not who I said I was! Would you like some toast?"

But if he did it right—maybe even with a little magic? He tilted his head to the side as he considered. The kettle finished boiling and Ren poured the water over his instant grounds. His mind was filling with possibilities.

 _A little longer, love. Wait just a little longer._ He took his coffee cup and headed for the bathroom to replace his brown contacts.

Kyoko's phone rang in the living room, a happy tune dancing through the apartment. Kuon hurried to finish prepping and inserting his other contact. Surely she wouldn't sleep through her ringtone. Ren finished, wiped his hands, and went out to meet her.

Only Kyoko wasn't awake yet, and now his phone was ringing instead. He walked over to pick it up and saw Yashiro-san's number flashing.

"Yes?"

"Ah, Ren-kun, thank goodness! Have you seen Kyoko-chan?" Yashiro questioned.

"Kyo—ah who? I mean, where is she? I mean, no, why?" Ren stammered, cursing himself for not keeping his cool. Yashiro always had his radar on high alert for any romantic development and he had probably just blown it.

"Who? Did you just ask me who Kyoko-chan is? Ren-kun are you ill? We've got three shoots today, if you have a fever just let me reschedule—" Ren interrupted Yashiro quickly before his extremely efficient manager worked himself into a miscommunication.

"No, no, I'm fine. Just didn't sleep well last night," Ren covered.

"Ah-hmm… Well, hmmm," Yashiro said, his second "hmmm" noticeably more pleased than the first. "Then I won't bother you for long. But if you happen to see Kyoko-chan anywhere, ah, nearby, can you please tell her to come in ASAP? She's needed on set in half and hour," Yashiro finished. Ren couldn't see his face, but he could tell his manager was absolutely beaming. _Well, there goes that cover._

"Yes, of course," Ren agreed. "Now, I need to finish getting ready. See you at 8:00, Yashiro-san."

Ren clicked the phone off and turned to run into his bedroom. "Kyoko!" he called, "Kyoko, you gotta—" Ren froze mid-step and mid-sentence. Kyoko was still sleeping, sprawled across his bed wearing absolutely nothing except red lace panties with white bows on the sides.


	26. You Belong To Me

Ren felt his body undergo a queer and sudden shifting like the floor and ceiling had just flipped. His pulse skyrocketed but his blood rushed to his core, leaving him with a hot red flush on top of pale cheeks. Half of him knew he needed to act immediately, to run away or cover her immediately – while the other half, the deeper, primal half, wanted to rip his own clothes off and leap on top of her. He shifted; the movement set him free from his paralysis as he leapt into action, grabbing the castaway down comforter and flinging it over his girlfriend. His eyes averted, Ren started tucking the blanket completely around her small body, careful to keep his hands completely covered in fabric. He would _not_ take advantage of her in any way. She would never forgive him. She already had a lot to forgive him for! He'd been pressing her physical boundaries right and left since he caught her in the alleyway. Mogami Kyoko was like a drug. _A beautiful, slender, white-skinned drug with only two white bows standing between me and the most delicious prize I've ever—_ Ren coughed, interrupting his own perverted thoughts. He had finished wrapping her in the fluffy comforter and gently but swiftly scooped the massive bundle of girlfriend up.

Kyoko awoke to an overly warm, dark, soft world. She tried to move and found herself stuck, caught inside two large, strong bands wrapping around her midsection. Startled, Kyoko tensed then started thrashing about with massive frenetic energy.

Ren cursed under his breath and raced for the bathroom. He threw open the door and plopped her gently on the floor, scootching her inside slightly farther, making room to close the door around the bulky blob of blanket. Kyoko's thrashing had already worked one arm out, and the sight of even such innocuous bare skin had Ren's pulse racing as he shut the door and quickly crossed the room to find her clothing. Kyoko's complaints grew steadily louder inside the bathroom as she struggled to emerge from the wad of blanket, her voice spurring Ren into faster action. He grabbed some of his own clothes from the nearby dresser and opened the bathroom door just enough to toss them inside.

Kyoko squeaked as a pair of gym shorts hit her in the head, covering her eyes just moments after she'd extricated her head from the pile. She felt completely disoriented. "Where…?" Kyoko pushed the shorts off her face to look around. She instantly recognized the simple elegance of the marble bathroom from when she'd cared for a feverish Tsuruga-san.

"Tsuruga-san…?" she called timidly, still encased in blankets from her shoulders down. Her left hand protruded from a random opening, and a spot on her right side felt a chilly breeze from the AC vent on the floor beside her. "Hello?"

"Kyoko," he said, pausing hesitantly, "Ah, Kyoko-chan, sorry, I didn't mean to barge in and find you—I mean, the shorts will be too big, but I can't find your… ah…" Ren trailed off. He felt more conflicted than ever before. His mind was full of the image of her spread out on his bed, her beautiful body openly accepting his loving touches. But behind the scene flashed a giant warning sign – "PURE JAPANESE MAIDEN." Kyoko had responded so beautifully to his desires; their few stolen kisses had filled his soul with delight. She was his everything—the most beautiful women on earth; a priceless treasure. He knew her modesty and her upbringing ran deep, however, and groaned. If she thought he had take advantage of her last night—if she realized he has seen her naked—if their first date ends with her feeling betrayed or used—Ren groaned. "I promise you, I covered you up as soon as I came inside. I slept on the couch all night…" he trailed off.

Kyoko sat on the floor, staring at the door. "Covered me up?" she questioned softly. She suddenly became intensely aware of the feeling of the down comforter brushing against her bare breasts. Kyoko yelped. "My clothes! My CLOTHES?!" She sprang to her feet, the blanket falling to the floor. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Kyoko's face blanched as she saw herself in all her red satin bikini underwear glory in Ren's full-length mirror. _No no no no no_ , she berated herself mentally. _He and I – we didn't – I wouldn't – he couldn't—_ A blurry memory of her body responding to his kisses on the small couch flashed into her mind. _Off! Take it off!_ she had cried as his eyes burned into her soul. Kyoko covered her face with her hands, her cheeks now aflame. Her legs were shaking slightly as she stood in full realization that no, _she would_ and _he would_ were far more appropriate responses.

"We—did we…?" she meekly questioned.

"No." Ren replied firmly. "I mean, we kissed, yes—but nothing more. I carried you in to the bed fully clothed and slept outside."

"Then how did I…?"

Ren shrugged, then realized she couldn't see him. "Kyoko, I'm not sure," he laughed lightly. "You _did_ say you wanted them off though, so maybe you just… followed through?"

Kyoko moaned loudly, banging her head against the mirror in abject shame.

"Kyoko! Are you alright?" Ren knocked on the door, startled by the loud noise.

"SEMPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIII I AM SO SORRRRRRRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY," Kyoko moaned, her voice filling the tiled bathroom with an eerie sound as if her very soul was escaping her body. "I HAVE SHAMEFULLY PROPOSITIONED YOU!" Kyoko almost died of embarrassment at the thought. Ren was willing to date her, to hold her hand, to kiss her, but to think she had the audacity to ask him to—the impropriety! Kyoko moaned and fell forward to lay her entire upper half on the sink. The cold ceramic flashed against her bare skin and she jumped up with a squeak. His gym clothes lay on the floor near her blanket, and she picked them up. At least she could preserve some modesty by finally getting dressed!

"Kyoko, you don't need to be ashamed," Ren gently spoke through the door. "It's a natural human desire when you love another person."

Kyoko froze, his shorts halfway up her legs.

_Natural._

_Human._

_Desire._

_When._

_You._

_Love._

Warning sirens blared in her head, but her system was rendering completely functionless. Kyoko OS Version 10.7 had crashed.


	27. Hello, Leather Pants

Ren heard her go completely still and paused. His eyes went wide as he realized what he had just verbalized. For so long he had accepted his own feelings in his mind that they naturally slipped out as he tried to comfort her. He scrambled – she would run _for sure_ after all of this if he suddenly confessed!

"Or even when you just like someone. A physical attraction. And, ah," he searched for words to calm her and just move past this awkwardness. "Sate and Sekusha did have a lot to drink last night. Everyone knows that this often happens between two mutually attracted people when alcohol is involved. So it's not a big deal, it's just normal, we don't have to worry about it, I'm not worried, so let's just," Ren felt the words flowing out like a verbal string of puke that was ruining everything but was as unpreventable as lava flow. "Let's just forget about it and go to work." He clasped his fingers into a fist, desperately wanting to take back absolutely everything he had said in the past thirty seconds. _Idiot. Idiot. Idiot._ This woman could undo him like no other being on earth. Smooth operator Tsuruga Ren was a hopeless hormonal high schooler in front of her.

His string of nonsense slowly sunk into Kyoko's frozen consciousness. "…just like someone… physical… lot to drink… everyone knows this happens… alcohol involved… just normal… not worried… forget about it and go to work."

"WORK!" she yelped. "My phone! What time is it?" Kyoko flung on Ren's shirt and raced out into the room. "I have to be on set at nine – what time is it?!" She frantically raced around the room, holding his gym shorts up with one hand as they threatened to sink off her tiny hips.

Ren simply stared. She had burst into the room like a pixie of fire, her hair in a glorious morning halo around her head, her eyes bright with emotion, her delicate frame looking even more precious dwarfed by his oversized clothing. She raced around his bed, running back and forth in front of him as she gathered her clothing piece by piece.

"Ren! Time!" she called over her shoulder at him.

"Ah," he mumbled, pulling his own phone out of his pocket. "8:30."

"No!" Kyoko flew into hyperdrive, grabbing her last article of clothing and racing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Ren heard the water turn on and the soft sounds of clothing once more hitting the floor. He blinked once, twice, and slowly recovered. Kyoko was here. She had spent the night with him. It was a total disaster from some perspectives, but from others – it was perfection. He swiftly strode into the guest bathroom across the apartment and returned to knock at the bathroom door before pushing it open just a crack and holding a small parcel inside. She peered at his hand and the item inside. "What is this?"

"Just some toiletries for you," he said.

"You… had them here?" Kyoko asked, puzzled. "Oh, wait, you were up before me." She took the bag and opened it to find a toothbrush, toothpaste, a small reusable cup, a brush, some hairspray, and a tiny designer make up kit. "Thank you for buying these for me this morning."

"I didn't get them this morning," he simply said, turning to dress himself for the day.

Kyoko blushed, holding the toothbrush under the stream of water. He had been preparing ahead of time for her stay. _He wanted me here,_ she allowed herself to think. She shook away the thought before she got ensnared in Fairy Land and sped through the rest of her morning prep.

Flying out of the bathroom, Kyoko grabbed her bag and the Momiji wig and headed for the front door. "I'll take a taxi," she shouted over her shoulder. "No need to rush!" She went to grab the doorknob and found Ren blocking her way.

"My girlfriend will _not_ arrive to work in a taxi after spending the night at my place," Ren said, his eyes dark as he loomed over her. "5 seconds for me to grab my keys. You leave this apartment without me…" he left the threat unfinished.

Kyoko gulped and meekly waited. His words echoed in her head. _Spending the night at my place_. She flushed again and twisted her hands together, watching him from the corner of her eyes. _How did we get here?_ she thought in wonder. _And where are we heading?_

Ren and Kyoko drove in strangely comfortable silence. They were both content to simply sit together and process the whirlwind of a first date, the only shift in scene occurring when one or the other remembered a scene from the night or morning and color-changed from a normal, healthy hue to a hot pink blush. Five minutes before call, Ren pulled up to the curb at the back of the studio. He leaned over to kiss Kyoko on the cheek, but found only empty air. She had evacuated the car as if ejected, the sheer force of will to make it on time propelling her at supernatural speeds. He saw her turn as she ran and wave at him, a giant smile on her face. He raised his hand in acknowledgment, knowing that the most foolish grin known to man was suffusing his own features. _Spending the night at my place_ , he thought. _A guy could get used to this._

Kyoko slammed through the staff entrance and hit the ground running, blasting down the hallway at full speed. She only needed to drop off the wig at costuming and then could head for the morning script reading. Three doors down on the right and the human bullet flew into the costume room, delicately placing the wig on it's stand before reversing and zooming back into the hall—only to screech to a halt as a tall, dark figure blocked her way.

"Koga-san," Kyoko breathlessly acknowledged her sempai. "I'm sorry I'm almost late, I am on my way now, so please—"

Koga merely cleared his throat, his frown deepening, and suddenly realization flooded Kyoko. Could he have seen Ren drop her off? _Oh no no no_ , she flailed mentally for an excuse. _Car trouble? Same manager? Ease of schedule?_ None of them would work to explain why such an illustrious star was ferrying a no-name actress around! "I can explain, I—"

Koga held up his hand, stopping her midsentence. "It's bad enough that you're borrowing company property without permission. Do not waste everyone's time with excuses."

Kyoko straightened, realizing he was right. Far better to not hold up the meeting! "Yes, Koga-san! Let us go to the reading immediately!"

Koga merely looked at his phone. "You go on. I have business here."

"Of course," Kyoko realized. _Why else would someone as talented as Koga-san be standing outside the costume room? He must be doing prep work for Shizuma instead of joining the first part of the meeting._ "I'm sorry to interfere." Koga waved her on and made as if to head into the costume department.

As Kyoko fled down the hallway, Koga turned to observe her retreating form thoughtfully. _A chameleon…_ he couldn't help but think. Last night, he had seen her leave dressed in a tremendously out-of-character outfit. Short, tight leather miniskirt. White crop-top and matching athletic shoes. Long, dark ponytail brushing against the bare skin of her back. He hadn't been certain it was Kyoko; the outfit was too bizarre for her tastes. But her panicked entry this morning, holding the Momiji wig done up in a ponytail, and – most damning of all – wearing the same clothes she had arrived to work in the day before confirmed everything.

Kyoko had definitely met with her weird vegetable-named childhood friend last night.

He cocked his head, considering. What kind of relationship did those two have? Would it prevent him from using her to manipulate the Gangly Monster into being pulled off the market as Japan's Most Desirable? Koga tapped his phone against his hand, lost in thought. He knew she checked off the lists of desirable traits in a female in that outfit. Long, toned legs, check. Smooth skin bared at just the right level for a casual caress, check. Pert breasts, check. Even the addition of the long hair (fake), check. Not that he cared; his only concern when it came to women was for them to aim their lusts at him and catapult him to fame on the crescendo of their desires.

Koga turned and looked at himself in the reflection of the costume room window. Women were useful to his career, and easily manipulated. But for romance, his tastes lay in more… muscular directions. Koga stared unseeingly at his reflection, imagining a slender waist. Rock hard abs. Muscles that rippled under his fingertips as he stroked them down his torso. Eyes filled with emotion – any emotion. All the emotions. Koga licked his lips and blinked, the movement in the window's reflection rousing him from his reverie.

He took a deep breath and checked the hallway. Wouldn't do to have a woman finding him apparently lost in narcissism as he daydreamed; fans were far too sensitive to stars appearing to think too highly of themselves. He cracked his neck and turned to head towards the meeting when a sudden commotion erupted at the stage door. Two bulky crew members - _too thick waisted, though their biceps were certainly admirably shaped_ —struggled to peacefully block someone from forcing their way down the hallway. The individual was shouting at them, daring them to try and stop him by force. Koga caught a glimpse of disheveled blonde hair and tight, black leather pants. _Interesting_ , he thought. _Perhaps I'll go see if I can help._


	28. First Shot

Sho bristled with untamed arrogance as the security guards dared to stand in his path. "Do you even know who I am?" he shouted in disbelief. "I could tear this production down with one bad review on my talk show appearance tonight!" He smirked at them when the guards paused to look at one another, trying to piece together strategy. Maybe he wasn't _quite_ at that level to destroy a movie release with a side comment, but he should be. He WOULD be. The world would know Fuwa Sho once his international debut was complete!

Sho moved to brush past the security guards but they stiffened again, blocking his way. "Fuwa-san, we are very sorry, but we cannot let anyone through without a security pass. The orders come directly from President Takarada."

Sho sneered. Takarada. What a fruitcake. As if he had the right to block Akatoki Agency's main star. He had to get in to see that stupid girl before he was called overseas. Sho fumed. One week. It had been a WEEK since he had left the note for her and she had completely ignored his demand for her to visit him during his short return to Japan. She needed to pay. They all needed to pay! Sho's blue eyes grew steely and prideful as he let his anger at Kyoko overwhelm his judgment. "Takarada can suck it! You hear me? When I say I'm coming in, you move!" The guards prickled at his insolence towards President Lory. The larger guard reached to grab Sho by the arm and physically drag him out of the film studio, repercussions be damned. Just before he made contact, a firm grip from behind held his arm still.

"Koga-sama, sir!" the guard bowed his head, shocked that the massive star was intervening in their fracas. "We have the situation under control, sir. I apologize for disturbing you."

Koga patted the guard on his well-rounded bicep but said nothing. He stared at the interloper standing in the hallway. Piercing blue eyes snapped back at him from under the mop of blonde hair. Hips set in a lazy slouch the belied the capability for speed from his well-toned muscles. A bit skinny, and with shoulders less broad than perfection, but overall very pleasing. Sho turned to lean against the wall, slightly uncomfortable with the intensity of the actor's gaze. The new angle of view for Koga highlighted the way Sho's pants hugged his ass. Koga nodded to himself.

"I'll handle it, gentlemen," he simply said. Sho stood up straight, rolling his shoulders. A fight would be just the ticket to release some of this nervous energy. He hadn't punched out a sucker since that shaggy Vie Ghoul member. It had felt so good then, and he was sure it would feel just as good now.

Instead, Koga simply turned and started to walk away down the hall. Sho frowned, confused. Koga raised a hand without turning and flicked his fingers, beckoning for Sho to follow. Sneering, displeased at being treated like a child, but seeing no other option for moving past the guards without bruising his knuckles, Sho waited a few beats then shrugged and pushed between the stunned guards to follow Koga.

"I assume you're waiting for Mogami-san," Koga queried, not bothering to look over his shoulder at Sho.

"Yeah, I—wait, how did you know?" Sho replied in confusion.

"She has a tendency to collect strange people," he said, "and draw them here." Koga finally looked over his shoulder at Sho. "Coffee?"

Sho stood still in the hallway, at a loss for how to take this guy. _Better than being held outside like a commoner,_ he shrugged. _I'll figure out what his game is and get Kyoko in the meantime._ Sho followed Koga into the breakroom. Koga gestured for Sho to sit on the couch before he walked over to the espresso maker. "Cappuccino, or café au lait?"

 _Mmm, the star treatment. I'll take it._ "Neither. Straight espresso," Sho demanded, thinking he'd just proven himself quite the man indeed. Koga snickered briefly under his breath. One look at Sho and it was evident he was the kind of guy who lived for strawberry pudding and not straight espresso. Koga brewed a shot and added a teaspoon of brown sugar to the cup, swirling it as it filled. He turned to hand it to Sho.

"Thanks, man," Sho said, trying to recover some of his initial impression and make nice with the public. "I don't need a babysitter though. I'm sure the crew needs you back. What show are you stagehand for?"

Koga stared.

"Stagehand…?"

"Yeah, you know—oh, sorry, are you a camera man?" Sho nodded his apologies, sipping the espresso. "Hey, that's actually good!"

" _Camera,_ " Koga paused, the words bitter on his tongue. " _Man._ "

Sho heard the tone change in his companion and looked up from his drink. He gulped when he saw the rage burning behind the eyes of the tall man. "Hey, I'm sorry, I—"

"Koga Hiromune," Koga bit off the words. He needed to teach this whelp a lesson. He leaned in close to Sho, his eyes lit with fire. "Japan's top male actor." He drew closer still, his face mere centimeters from Sho's, his dark eyes locked with Sho's light ones. He moved one hand up to lay just a single finger on Sho's collarbone, tracing downwards and slowly adding another finger and another as he moved his hand down the singer's partially bared chest. "Do not forget again."

Koga rose and turned, leaving the room.

Sho was frozen, the espresso clasped in a death grip in his right hand.

 _What the f*** was that?! Why couldn't I move?_ His heart pounded in his chest. He looked at the espresso and threw the entire cup in the trash. "Freak!" he exclaimed, standing to leave.

"That – _Koga_ guy better understand he can't mess with Sho Fuwa like that!" Sho slammed the door of the breakroom open, looking wildly down both sides of the hallway. "That piece of s*** Koga—he—" Sho trailed off, blushing unexpectedly. His skin was still hot where Koga had touched him. Sho cursed and slammed through the back door and back out into the sunshine, completely forgetting his urgent need to see Kyoko.


	29. Not Your Choice

Momiji kneeled on the floor, her twin sword sheaths removed from her back and lying within easy reach next to her. A small pile of wood lay in front of her, Chidori watching her with anxiety from across the pile. Momiji reached into her sleeve and withdrew a small flint and striker set from an inseam pocket, holding it near the base of the wood pile. With rhythmic, measured strikes she beat the flint, the sparks reflecting in her eyes, highlighting their depths. She fought to keep her face placid, only a small wrinkle to the side of each eye betraying her distaste for the woman sitting across from her.

Chidori shifted. She made as if to hold up her hand then let it relax against her upper thigh again. She examined the ninja carefully, looking for an opening. Not seeing any, Chidori sighed and simply began.

"You hate me."

Momiji didn't skip a beat in her strikes. She merely cocked her head in a curt nod. A spark caught on one of the dry leaves, igniting small flames. Momiji leaned forward and gently blew, spurring the flames to grow and catch the tiny twigs she had expertly piled around the center.

"You have no reason to," Chidori continued, her tone changing to hold an implied question, almost begging for a reason.

Satisfied that the tinder had caught, Momiji straightened. She looked straight at Chidori. The cold disdain filling her stare was all the answer she would give this… _woman_.

"You have _no_ reason to!" Chidori repeated, her voice rising, almost shrill.

Momiji slowly picked up a sword and unsheathed it in one swift, graceful motion. Chidori gasped and stood, backing away.

"No!" she gasped, holding her hands up to shield herself.

The ninja pulled a cloth from behind her belt and wiped her sword down in a single smooth motion, pausing to hold it up before the small flames, looking for smudges and imperfections. She purposefully ignored Chidori's antics. Slowly, Chidori's heaving chest calmed and she stood straighter. She refused to sit again while Momiji's sword was unsheathed.

Momiji lay the bare sword on her lap, fully aware of the effect it had on Chidori. Staring into the flames, she quietly spoke.

"Your presence is harmful to him."

Chidori flinched as if slapped.

"You may cause him to smile," Momiji paused. The bitterness of her distaste for Chidori and her disavowal of Shizuma's care for her rose like bile. "But you cannot protect him. Instead, you draw enemies to him—and then put him in harm's way when he must sacrifice his own safety to protect you."

Chidori felt hot tears welling up at the ninja's coarse words. She knew this was true. She knew the times Shizuma had protected her were nearing numberless. And yet – she could not leave. Her love for him was too great - and she clung to the hope, his love for her was as well.

"Our love—"

"Will mean nothing if he ends up dead because of your incompetence," Momiji cut her off brutally. She would not allow this fragile creature to ruin Shizuma for her own pleasures. She must protect her master from all dangers, including himself. She held her sword up to shine in the firelight once more. "You must leave."

Chidori looked at Momiji, the ninja's golden eyes burning at her with more intensity than the flames between them. She could almost feel the sharp sword at her throat as she forced a swallow down her dry throat. She took a step backwards. Momiji rose fluidly to her feet. Chidori turned and ran into the darkness.

"CUT! Both of you, more than sufficient. That's a wrap for you today, Mogami; you've worked hard," beamed Producer Kuresaki. Insomuch as the man could beam with a face frozen in a perpetual scowl.

Kyoko bowed deeply to the director, then turned and bowed to her costar. She turned and walked off set towards her dressing room, her mind abuzz with scenarios created by the intense conversation between Momiji and Chidori. A relationship should be something that benefits and lifts up both parties. Neither Momiji nor Chidori sufficiently understood that. Did she?

She opened the dressing room door quietly, pulling off her wig and looking at herself in the mirror. _This person just spent the night at Tsuruga Ren's home_ , she thought, scrutinizing herself. This no-name actress still in high school – IF she manages to somehow pass her exams. She sighed, scraping her hand through her hair and trying to bring some semblance of order to her locks and her thoughts. Did she understand the ramifications of her relationship with Ren- for Ren? Or was she pulling a Chidori and rushing in without a care for his consequences? Changing, she decided to go grab some lunch from the staff room. Food always helped sharpen her wits.

The caterer had provided a full spread of healthy options. Kyoko chose protein-rich sesame salmon with a side seaweed salad. She sat at a table by herself and munched, holding her head in her left hand as she poked at the salmon pieces with her chopsticks.

"What would the public think if they found out this afternoon we were together?" she asked the empty room.

"Probably nothing. You don't matter very much yet," a disinterested voice answered from the corner.

Kyoko felt an electric shock run through her spine as she jolted out of her chair to an immediate standing position. Her head snapped around wildly, searching for the source. _THERE! DARK CORNER! WE'VE BEEN DISCOVERED!_

Koga raised an eyebrow at her, not bothering to move. "I can see why oddballs flock to you," he simply said, returning to stare at his phone. He'd been in the middle of an intense Google Images search.

Kyoko slowly came down from panic mode, forcing herself to breathe normally as she reminded her inner self that he hadn't heard the entire mental monologue, just the spoken question. Just the question. She winced, covering her face. _What an embarrasing question…_ but Koga-san was right. She didn't matter very much yet. But wasn't that the whole problem?

She peeked out between her fingers at Koga. He didn't seem inclined to leave. She considered him. He was Japan's #2, Ren's closest equivalent in fame and status. Perhaps he would understand? Perhaps he could help? Kyoko hesitated. The last time she'd interrupted him he'd definitely linked her and Ren together. She couldn't decide if that made it better or worse.

Koga sighed. She was staring at him so blatantly. He wasn't going to get any peace here. Finding just the right addition to his collection would have to wait. He set down his phone and stared back at her.

Kyoko jumped backwards, her body seizing up when his eyes met hers. She'd done it now! He was irritated with her! She started to bow in apology but froze when he held up his hand.

"Just tell me and get it over with. I don't want to be caught in here alone with you. People might think we were actually eating together," he sighed in frustration.

Kyoko stammered. "W-w-well, I have—I mean, Momiji—so, you're Shizuma, right?" she struggled through, catching a glimpse of Koga's eyes widening in sheer disbelief and disgust at her question. She plowed on. "And, you're Japan's #2 man," she continued. His eyebrow twitched and his eyes hardened. _Crap, crap, he's getting angry! Come on, Kyoko, dig yourself out of this!_ "And an incredibly talented and handsome actor! I am a lucky kohai!" she bowed at the waist, waiting a beat before continuing. "So I was wondering if you could help me."

"Ask. The. Question," Koga bit off the words.

"What are your thoughts on relationships between people with two very different statuses?" Kyoko felt the words tumble out of her. "As in, you, I mean Shizuma, and Chidori. Or say, if you dated someone who was far less famous than you."

"Far less? Are you dating someone less famous than you?" Koga narrowed his eyes, watching her closely. She'd been going out a lot lately with her childhood friend. Some vegetable-name rapper. Was she potentially just worried about her own reputation if people found out they were together? Or was she putting him in the male's place—and dating someone of far _greater_ fame. Someone tall, and gangly, and infuriating.

"Ah, well," Kyoko hesitated. Should she just make herself the famous one, like he was suggesting? It would protect Ren's identity. But did she need to protect his identity so much from her sempai that she should lie? Kyoko balked at lying needlessly and decided to risk it. "No, actually. The scenario is for someone more famous than I. Not that we're definitely dating, or anything. I mean, I can't say. It's not my place. Or well, it is, but I shouldn't—"

"Enough, I get it," Koga interrupted. He tried to smile at her but it probably came off as more of a leer based on her flinch. He had what he needed. This girl had somehow ensnared Tsuruga Ren. Koga felt his insides begin to boil. _Number 1. He's number one in Japan and he settles for this half-baked twit. She doesn't even have proper breasts, for gods sake. How does this reflect on me?! If number ONE is found to be dating a high schooler who hasn't even officially debuted yet—who will they start imaging me with? Someone American booby probably!_ Koga seethed, trying to hide it from Kyoko.

Kyoko glanced sideways at Koga-san. He was acting very strange. His smile – was that really a smile? He could do much better as Shizuma. But then, she wasn't Chidori so… Kyoko tried to smile back and waited for his reply. Speaking more now would clearly only make the situation worse.

"Just give up," Koga said simply.

Kyoko felt her heart drop to her feet. Her eyes wide, she turned to look fully at him. "Give up…?" she trailed off in disbelief.

"You know how the story goes. Two people have to be mutually compatible. And that's not just talking about senses of humor. It means in all of life. If his career is so far beyond yours, what could you possibly do except drag him down? It would be one thing if you were some homemaker – sure, then at least you'd benefit him by doing his laundry and keeping the light on for when he comes back from overseas shoots," he continued, noticing how Kyoko seemed to shrink in on herself as he spoke about homemakers. "But as a fledging actress who hasn't even debuted? Not only will you not boost his career, you'll confuse people, you'll pull his reputation down, and you'll be so busy with your own work and schedule that you won't ever have time to fit him in. Eventually you both will have to choose career or one another, so just do it now. It'll hurt less." Koga finished and sat back, grabbing his phone again. _Back to more important things,_ he thought. _Now that I've got that mess settled._

Kyoko stood in shock, his words battering her. She felt numb. "I… should go. Thank you, sempai," she said weakly. She turned to leave, letting the doors fall closed behind her and sinking against them onto the floor of the hallway.

Every single word he said was right.

But…

This wasn't his life. This was Ren's, wasn't it? And hers. She sat up straight, realizing her perspective as Momiji had been flawed.

Momiji had no right to judge Shizuma and Chidori's choices. Their lives were theirs, not hers. She lived to protect, to serve, to raise up Shizuma no matter what the personal cost. If Shizuma chose a partner who demanded more sacrifice of him—that was his freedom.

She needed to talk to Ren about this, not Koga. They would make this decision together.


	30. Devil's Plans

Koga waited until he heard her rise from her slump against the doors and walk off. He locked his phone screen and stood, burning inside.

Tsuruga Ren and Mogami Kyoko. _What the actual f***._

She had just been running around with that vegetable guy, and now suddenly dating Tsuruga Ren?! Koga gripped his hand around his phone, flexing his tense muscles. _Not possible_.

He knew though, deep inside, that it was very, very possible. He had watched Tsuruga Ren closely for years now, trying to learn his secrets, trying to undermine him and bring him down to his level. He saw the way he looked at Mogami—something about that tiny creature had melted the icy dam inside Tsuruga and it was only a matter of time before she clued in and took advantage. Koga gritted his teeth. He needed to get some air.

Slamming open the backstage door, Koga strode out into the sunshine like a starving man. He looked up to orient himself and find his car—to see Fuwa Sho staring at him, leaning against a black sports car.

" _You,_ " Sho sneered. He pushed himself off the car and stalked over to Koga. "What the f*** is wrong with you?! Touching people—threatening me—" Sho stood tall, trying to loom over Koga. "You better apologize now for that crap you pulled, Koga Hirohume, or I'll—"

"I see you remembered my name," Koga interrupted. "Well done." He started to walk past Sho but the younger singer's hand grabbed his shirt sleeve and held him back. Koga looked down at Sho's fist balled up in fabric, causing creases aplenty, and then up at Sho. Sho's eyes were full of hurt pride and fury, his chest heaving with the effort of self-control. His knuckles gripping Koga's shirt were white, all his effort going into not punching Koga.

"Don't you leave," Sho said in a low voice.

Koga examined Fuwa Sho thoughtfully. _Such vibrancy_ , he thought. _Such depth of emotion. Stupid emotion, to be sure. Pathetic and selfish emotion, to be sure._ He paused, considering. _But so very alive._ Tsuruga Ren's eyes had never looked at him with anything beyond geniality. A polite disinterest above a gentlemanly smile. Koga took his time, drawing his gaze downwards from Fuwa's eyes. He minutely examined Fuwa's form once more and sighed. Toned but too slender. Almost breakable compared to the breadth and richness of Tsuruga Ren. He simply dominated every single man when it came to physique. There was no comparison. _And yet…_ Koga looked once again into Fuwa's furious eyes and smiled coldly. _Something makes me want to see just how many emotions I can draw out of this pup._

Sho felt his blood boiling under Koga's obvious regard – definitely from anger. It was just anger making his heart rate increase too. And his breathing quicken. And his mouth dry out. Sho swallowed hard. "Damn it, you tool!" he yelled. "Stay away from Mogami Kyoko, do you hear?"

Koga frowned at him, reaching up to brush Sho's hand off his shoulder. "Mogami Kyoko…" he said slowly, letting her name roll off his tongue.

Sho had instinctively spoken, seeking to shield her from Koga's influence. He hadn't actually thought through his actions. He just knew how uncomfortable this man made him and worried about her costarring alongside him so intimately. "She's—she's an old friend of mine and you better not ever touch her, creep," Sho finished, realizing he had no words to aptly explain just exactly _who_ Kyoko was to him.

"Ah," Koga breathed, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt. "Another old friend."

Sho twisted his head in question at Koga's statement. "What do you mean, _another_? Kyoko didn't have any friends growing up other than me." He raised his chin, daring Koga to contradict his ownership of Kyoko. Or at least his past ownership.

"You don't, by any chance, also rap?" Koga mused.

"What the F? No," Sho blurted, confused.

"Hmm," Koga replied. He looked Fuwa over once more, considering. Satisfied, he patted Fuwa's shoulder and walked away. "I'll be in touch," he threw over his shoulder, not turning to see the singer's reaction. _Intervening in that mess worked out to be quite useful_ , he thought, remembering his original infuriating meeting with Fuwa Sho. Turns out he was the perfect counterpoint to Tsuruga Ren – a childhood friend with a potential claim on her heart. She certainly had a claim on his, at least. Yes, he could work with this. Fuwa Sho needed refining, smoothing, but when he was done with him Mogami Kyoko would be theirs. _And Tsuruga Ren…_ Koga smiled to himself. _Alone. Lost. Free. Ripe._

Koga rubbed his fingers together, letting himself fantasize. Tsuruga Ren would be devastated when Mogami left him for that singer. Koga would come in and offer him friendship. Understanding. The way only the two top men in the industry could possibly understand one another. A bond that ran deeper than anything physical. But which would most certainly turn to something physical when Tsuruga realized how very, very good it could be. Koga bit his lip, pulling up his latest Google Image treasure – a photo of Tsuruga emerging from the spa in a soft black robe slightly open in the center. He let his imagination wander, settling into the driver's seat of his car to drive home. Hair damp from steam, clinging to the contours of his face. Warm water pooled in the small dent on his chest; tiny droplets beaded on his skin. He would place his fingers just _so_ , letting them delicately rest on bare skin. The slightest pressure, a simple movement, a flutter of breath near his ear. Koga closed his eyes. A very good day indeed.


	31. Haru and Mori

It had only been 48 hours since the tabloids exploded with SEX GOD everywhere. Kyoko blushed, thinking of the way Ren looked leaning over her on the couch at his house. Of the way his lips felt against hers. Of the way— _SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH_ —mental brakes exploded in her mind as she drew dangerously near to remembering being spread out half-naked on his bed for him to see. _MOVING ON, MOVING ON!_

Kyoko started to fidget nervously, doing a small tap dance in the hallway. Last date had been borderline disastrous. The timeframe was too short since the news with Kana to risk being seen publicly together, but Sate and Sekusha were one-hundred-percent-off-limits. Sekusha was even worse than Natsu! Natsu had never crawled into a man's bed and exposed herself willingly! _Though_ , Kyoko conceded, _had she been in a relationship with one of the Sex God's alter-egos, Natsu probably would have pounced on him at the karaoke bar._

But she needed to talk with Ren. About many things! She ticked them off her fingers. Physical boundaries. _Or lack thereof._ His career. _And my lack thereof._ His eating habits! _Or lack thereof!_ Kyoko dissolved into her normal fretting about his food intake, finding sweet comfort in the routine.

"How can we see one another without violating moral standards as a result?" Kyoko mused to herself. Clearly, staying alone in his apartment was a no-go. Their rapper personas – no-go. But what if she created new personas? With obvious limitations on their physical engagement built into the characters? Kyoko's eyes gleamed. She sent Ren a quick text message.

-Are you free tonight?

She shut her phone, knowing he had a packed schedule and likely wouldn't respond anytime soon. _DING. New Message from Tsuruga Ren._ Kyoko grinned widely in surprise.

-Always free for you.

-Would you like to go on a date? My turn to pick our characters.

She sent a glowing animated image of a pair of dancing birds on a branch with tiny rainbows glittering behind them. Ren glanced at his phone as he held it surreptitiously beneath the desk during his meeting with the producer for his newest drama. He couldn't stop himself from beaming as he saw her glittering message. He had meant every single word he said to Kijima about preferring to hear her voice, but a part of him was still jealous of that simple text taiyaki animation she had sent to another man. He couldn't wait to find an excuse to show Kijima the lovebirds on a branch he'd just received.

-I'm at your command.

Kyoko grinned and sent him a photograph she'd found online.

-This pair: Haru and Mori. 7 pm; Muromachi Mall food court.

Ren glanced at the photo and burst out laughing in his meeting. The producer looked startled; Ren's outburst had interrupted him mid-sentence. Ren turned his laugh into a coughing fit and apologized profusely afterwards, asking for a glass of water. He had some shopping to do before his date tonight!

Kyoko waited on the fringe of the shopping mall food court. She fidgeted. Would these costumes be enough to disguise Tsuruga Ren? She fretted slightly – her choice was so much tamer than his had been. Sate and Sekusha had been so wildly different from their normal selves. _From anyone's normal selves_ , she laughed to herself. Part of the trick of disguise was blindsiding the public with a larger-than-life personality. Kyoko picked at her skirt. She'd chosen a far harder route—asking Ren to blend in with the public and hide himself in plain sight by becoming someone people overlook. She took a deep breath. _Worst case scenario,_ she thought, _he's discovered. He can shake it off as a PR stunt while I melt away into the crowd. No one will recognize me, that's certain._ She smiled. It helped she could run at the speed of light, too. Another deep breath.

Kyoko held her hand in front of her and slowly rolled her outstretched fingers in to gently rest on her palm, closing her eyes. She had left Corn at home, but allowed herself to draw from the stone's magic through pure belief, holding a gentle open space inside her clasped fingers as if Corn was held inside as she raised her hand to eye level. She tapped her forehead once with her hand and took a final deep breath, slowly letting her hand fall towards her heart. As her hand fell, she opened her eyes.

Kyoko was gone. Haru was here. And very, very uncertain. Haru nibbled on her bottom lip, her brows slightly knitted together. Her hand continued it's downward path to grip at the fringe of her skirt, worrying it between her fingers. She rocked on her heels. Public places were the worst. So many eyes! But the people—Haru watched them from behind her side-clipped bangs. If the people would simply keep their eyes off her, they were the most fascinating things in all of creation. Haru loved to watch people. She loved to create their stories in her mind, filling their lives with fantastic events and adventures and thrilling romance. A couple walked by hand-in-hand and Haru rubbed her skirt fringe harder, her fingers itching to write down notes about a magical journey through the rainforest the two were buying supplies for. Or at least could be buying supplies for. She chuckled. They were probably just bored and walking around the mall as a distraction. But they could definitely be about to embark on a mystical journey.

She pushed up her glasses and looked around the crowded room. Would he see her over here? She didn't exactly stand out in her brown oversized sweater and plaid skirt. But these clothes were so comfortable—the sweater had the most massive pockets, perfect for stashing her notebooks and extra pens. You should never be without a pen and paper in public! Inspiration could strike anytime.

She saw him just then and a grin took over her features. This was exactly the feeling she wanted to capture for that couple in the shopping mall. Leaving on their adventure, about to jump into the unknown, and they see each other from across the crowded room. Their eyes connect and a crystalline knowledge that their future is completely held in one another's hands, uncertain and fragile as it may be, creates a bridge of hope spanning the distance. Haru couldn't help it. She immediately sat down on the floor and grabbed her notebook from her bag, scribbling notes for her next chapter. She had to capture this feeling before it left.

Smudged brown shoes with loosely tied laces paused right on the edge of her vision at the end of her page as she scribbled. A large hand reached down and patted her head. "Inspiration strikes again?" his soft voice asked. Haru merely nodded. The words flew from her pen. A view from the plane – a moment of hesitation – fear of unknown – calm found in the simple clasping of hands together –

"I'm glad I'm your muse," he whispered, sitting beside her on the floor. She hastily wrapped up her notes for the scene and tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing at him from under her bangs without lifting her head. He was looking down at his shoes, his hands held together in front of his knees. His long legs had the usual faded-red corduroy pants with nearly bare patches on the knees from looking too hard for library books on the bottom shelfs. His wrinkled shirt was tucked into the pants without a belt, the sleeves shoved up to reveal his ink-stained hands. Her favorite part about him was his chest pocket. She knew she'd never run out of pens when Mori was around. Smiling to herself, she reached over, her head still bashfully hanging down, and picked her favorite pen out of his pocket. Mori blushed and scratched his head, skewing his own pair of thick-rimmed glasses in the process.

"Hi," she simply said.

"Hi," he breathed, straightening his glasses and smudging ink on his face in the process.

He stood up and brushed his pants off, turning to hold his hand out to help her up. She stood awkwardly, her heavy bag still strapped around her and throwing her slightly off-balance. Haru smoothed her skirt with her free hand, since Mori hadn't let go of her other hand yet. He rubbed his lips together then reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the ever-present chapstick to reapply. She grinned. Such a creature of habit. It was so comforting. All these other people around were unpredictable. Would they notice her? Would they care? Would they mock? She held them at bay with her stories, but Mori was different. She didn't need to write stories about him.

Haru stood on tiptoes to try and smooth his mop of hair. She was pretty sure he never, ever dried it before he fell asleep. The bedhead was intense, and simple finger-combing wouldn't take care of it. Readjusting her glasses, she gave up and wordlessly gestured towards their favorite store.

The two wandered into _Mandarake Bookstore_ and breathed a sigh of relief. It was peaceful in here, and smelled of paper and binding glue. Haru scurried over to the shelves and dove in between them, blissfully at home. Mori shyly nodded at the clerk, who peered over his book at him. The clerk's eyes followed him briefly, curious how oddly tall he was for a Japanese man. The way the young man hunched his shoulders and slumped slightly showed he was self-conscious about the fact and the clerk lost interest, returning to his novel.

Haru had made her way all the way to the back of the store and was fingering through dust-covered first releases of little-known mangakas. She loved hidden treasures. Someday she wanted to be published and found right here. Not in a glittering case up front, but in the back, where only true readers dove in on the hunt for something that didn't appeal to the masses but could truly change a life once imbibed. Mori stood and watched her. He would give everything he had to make a way for her to write full-time. He was trying. His mathematics professors were pushing him hard; he knew it was only a matter of time before he either made a breakthrough or cracked under the pressure. He reached out to touch her hair, rubbing it between his fingers for good luck. She was totally oblivious so he took advantage and moved closer, leaning forward to place a kiss on top of her head. She jumped and looked up and back at him. He couldn't resist – it may not be in character, but she was just too cute when completely absorbed in a task. He swooped down and brought his lips to hers, kissing her upside-down.

She tasted so good. Pure and sweet like a flower. He tried to deepen the kiss, moving his lips over hers, opening his own slightly as he started to caress her lips with his tongue. Haru tensed and ducked, dropping immediately away from him. She crouched on the floor, staring at the books. Mori reached out to touch her shoulder but held back for a moment. "Spider-Man," he said simply.

Haru cocked her head, turning to look at him. "What?"

"Sorry. I couldn't help it. It was like Spider-Man," he shrugged. "I've always wanted to… you know… to see if it really works to kiss upside down the way MJ and Peter did."

Haru's cheeks puffed out with restrained laughter. "NERD," she blurted out. Mori shrugged his typical American-style _meh_ at her, grinning widely.

"Haru, I'm sorry," he said quietly, resting his hand on her shoulder. "I know you don't like affection in public." Mori's words sparked a train of thought inside Ren that he needed to discuss with Kyoko herself. This could be a good opening. They were alone, and wouldn't be discovered here if they shifted out of character. _A date is a date is a date_ , he thought. _And I want to be on a date with my girlfriend, not Mori's._

"Actually, _Kyoko_ , I'm sorry," he rephrased. She stiffened at first, but he could see her slowly relax as she took in their surroundings and realized the security of the setting. "I—Ren—haven't respected your boundaries either. I get so lost in you that I stop thinking and just act. I want to be equals. I want you to lead me and to set the pace for us physically." He stopped there and waited for her.

Kyoko stood slowly, her eyes on the floor. Without looking up, she quietly and simply answered, "I don't think… I don't think anything has gone too far."

Ren blinked twice and lifted his hand to cup her chin and raise her face to look up at him. She was flushed bright red. He looked deep into her eyes and felt his need start to rise. Kyoko watched the transition happen as Ren let the Emperor begin to free himself and she squeaked. His gentle pressure on her chin prevented her from moving away as his eyes dove into her soul.

"Not even," Ren spoke, his tone hushed and sensual, "as Cain and Setsu?"

Kyoko's heart hammered as her mind was filled with images of their time together. Sharing a room. Sharing a bathroom. Sharing a bed. Her hands running down his bare chest. Her lips and teeth locked onto his neck. His legs braced around her as he threatened to echo her actions. His entire, beautiful, muscled, wet body—surely steam was blowing out of her ears by now. Kyoko was overheating. She blinked rapidly, her eyes wide.

"Not even," Ren spoke even more quietly. "Last night?"

Kyoko felt her body freeze as she realized she wasn't the only one to have seen the other naked. Ren bent forward – but Kyoko never found out for what because she had ripped herself away from him and was fleeing out into the massive shopping mall before he could blink.


	32. Full of Fire

Mori stood in startlement for a moment, clutching at the suddenly empty air between his hands. Then he sprung into action- inasmuch as a 6' 3" man could suddenly force inertia into motion without betraying his athleticism and ruining his character completely. Mori lurched forward, stumbling slightly and pushing off the bookcases for good measure as he made his way past the clerk. He threw a sincere apology for the disruption over his shoulder to the gentleman, earning a simple shrug and a muttered, "Teens."

Outside, Mori scanned the crowd quickly. His glasses made it slightly difficult to focus; the lenses were fake but the thick rims ringing his vision were clunky and unfamiliar to the actor inside. It was so tempting to pull them off, but he knew if he had a chance of chasing down Kyoko in public without getting mobbed he had to maintain his cover.

A brown cardigan bobbed through the crowd in front of the tea shop and Mori muttered a swift thanks to heaven for the blessing of height to see over the vast crowds. He rubbed his nose nervously, ducking his head in apology to the ladies he brushed past as he tried to make his way closer to Kyoko.

"Oh my, Honjou, isn't he quite the tall, good looking young man?" a granny in a purple knit sweater chuckled to her friend. "Take off those glasses, boy, you'd have much better luck catching a woman if she could actually see your eyes." The older women twittered. Matchmaking was definitely a favorite pastime of women past the childbearing age.

Mori ducked his head down between his shoulders, trying to blend in. He hated standing out for something as superficial and outside of his control as his height. _Someday people will know me for my methodical discoveries in the field of number theory_ , he vowed to himself, _and not as some lurcher_. He mussed his hair again, agitated. "Stay focused," he whispered to himself. He itched to go back to his comfort zone at the lab but leaving here without Haru—impractical. Unfeasible. Indemonstrable. Indefensible. The litany of synonyms calmed him and he increased his stride length, shoving his hands in his pockets to avoid bumping any more little old ladies.

He glanced inside. No Haru. Wait—behind the jade spoon display there was a glint of silver. Was that the Sailor Moon hairpin she loved? He ducked his head, trying to get a better view around the collection.

"Haru!" he called when he saw the familiar plaid skirt. The skirt twisted and flew away to the side, but with a quick one-two-three step Mori had covered the distance between the display and the front door and caught her in his arms. "Haru," he whispered. "I'm sorry again. Let's go somewhere quieter to talk." Haru glanced at him from the corner of her eye, worrying at her lip with her teeth. She ducked her head in agreement, shyly tucking her fallen hair behind her ear. She felt her blush rising again at his touch, even though her bulky sweater lay between his hands and her skin. He seemed to sense her discomfort and dropped his hands from her sides, reaching one finger out towards her instead.

Haru smiled and held her pinky out, linking it with his. The pair walked out the door with their pinkies interlocked, faces turned slightly to the side, secret smiles uncertainly spreading across their features.

Sho couldn't believe how long he had waited outside that stupid stage door for that stupid woman. He sat in the back of his limo seething with rage. His features slowly hardened into an unnatural grimace, _how dare she how dare she how dare she_ repeating like a religious litany in his mind.

Shoko sat across from him, legs crossed beneath her gray pencil skirt, watching her charge with hope. When she first met Sho, he had been nearly uncontrollable. Intense, immature, and driven by selfishness. All he cared about was himself, his looks, and how great everyone else thought he was. Even Shoko had been pulled into the magic show for a while—but like all magic shows, this one too came to an end. Living with Sho had shown her the depth of his immaturity and self-centeredness. She still lived with him, but without an romantic entaglement. He was like an adorable but stupid kid brother whom you desperately wanted to grow up and live out his full potential. The brawl with Tsuruga Ren ( _of all people,_ Shoko moaned inside still every time she thought of him, _why take on HIM_ ) had threatened to overwhelm his career as Sho started focusing more and more on Kyoko and less and less on his actual obligations.

And yet—here she was, full of hope. Sho had cancelled three – THREE – contractual meetings today to stand outside in a back alley and wait for Kyoko. After she had already ignored his "summons" and now even ignored his presence. Ah, how Shoko hoped this would be the turning point. Sho had shown some measure of emotional maturity when he wrote the love song in homage to Kyoko. If he could analyze his feelings of abandonment now, understand the depth of friendship he and Kyoko shared, and truly come to grips with what it meant to have an important person instead of wallowing in anger that his so-called maid had threatened him—to what heights could he rise? Shoko watched his visage twist in anger and crossed her fingers. She would love to see Kyoko break him. _Phoenixes rise from ashes_ , she thought. _And Fuwa Sho is nothing if not full of fire_.

Sho's phone began to ring. Shoko tapped her finger, waiting for him to snap out of it and answer his phone. She had a feeling she knew who was calling after that interesting request from the top actor's agent for Sho's personal cell phone number. She was anxious for her charge to make this excellent connection in the show biz world. It was about time he curried favor with someone in acting instead of parading around challenging everyone to duels over females. Four rings passed.

"Sho." Shoko said sharply. "Answer the phone."

Sho frowned more, if that was possible, ignoring her.

"You aren't doing anything. Answer the phone," she repeated, tapping her fingers harder.

Sho glared at her, but picked up the phone and pressed the green button, then turned on speaker phone and threw the phone on the seat.

"What." he demanded, shocking Shoko.

" _Fuwa Sho_!" she hissed, gesturing for him to calm down.

"Ah, did you know it was me?" the caller chuckled, his voice calm and genial. "I didn't expect you to find my number as effortlessly as I found yours. Well done."

"What the actual f—" Sho blurted, diving for the phone to hang up. The voice called out from the phone as he lunged.

"I have a proposition for you, Fuwa," the caller simply said. Sho paused, his finger hovering about the red End Call button. _Propositions from this guy_ … he involuntarily shuddered and closed his shirt collar with his free hand.

The voice continued, "I would like to help you." Sho glanced at Shoko and clicked the phone off speaker, holding it to his ear.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Ah," the caller said. "Off speaker finally. I suppose you're ready to actually talk, Fuwa Sho."

Sho just waited, gritting his teeth. The man's voice was so ridiculously nonchalant, like nothing in the world actually mattered. It made something inside Sho want to hear what he sounded like if he actually got passionate about something. The closest he'd gotten was when Koga got all uptight about Sho not knowing who he was. Sho smirked.

"I'm sorry, who is this?" he drawled into the phone.

No response.

"Did the line go dead? Must have been a telemarketer," Sho continued, moving the phone away as he spoke, giving the impression he was about to hang up.

"Fuwa Sho don't you dare hang up on me," the man on the other end called out in anger.

"Ah, but I don't know who this is? The number doesn't mean anything to me and you never said your name," he mused, thoroughly enjoying himself.

A long silence followed.

"Koga," the actor on the other end bit off his own name like he was chewing on rocks. "Hirohume."

"Oh. You," Sho said casually. "Right." He could almost feel the anger rolling off Koga and through the phone. He couldn't resist a final jab. "Japan's #2."

Koga's growl through the phone rumbled into Sho's ear. He had really pissed him off now, and it was _awesome._ Sho wished he could see the fireworks in Koga's eyes right now!

"Listen, you little twat. I have no earthly reason to help you, but the goddam way you were slinking around in that alley like a little lost puppy looking for his owner moved me to pity you. I—" Sho fumed at the description Koga was laying out of him, but he could tell the next words were ones Koga really didn't want to say and held off his angry rebuttal for a moment until he could hear just what on earth Koga was hesitating over. "I—goddam it, I can help you, you little piece of sh*t."

Sho burst into laughter, his whole body shaking with the peals of joy over the most ridiculously insulting offer of help he'd ever received. "You?" he said, forcing the word out between laughs. "Help me?" he was doubled over in the seat. "A piece of shi*t—hahahaha—one piece helping another, hahaha, I can't Koga, it's too good—I can't—ah, Shoko, hahaha, I need a drink," he reached out his hand for a drink and a very amused Shoko shoved a water bottle into it. "No, something stiff. This jerkwad just offered to help me. I need a whisky to recover from the shock," he finished, panting with laughter.

Koga just fumed silently. "Are you done?" he asked over the line.

"Oh, no, definitely not. But you can keep talking. I don't really need to pay attention to your nonsense."

Koga gritted his teeth. If this kid wasn't the best key to unraveling Tsuruga Ren he'd found yet, he'd have thrown him over long ago. _Infurtating twat,_ he thought. "I can help you win Mogami Kyoko," he stated simply, done with games.

Sho choked on his water.

"Ah, finally listening I see," Koga purred.

"Win? _Her_? I don't want to _win_ her, I want to crush her!" Sho shouted, his anger returning.

Now it was Koga's turn to laugh, his rich, deep laugh startlingly at odds to the rest of his persona. Sho was momentarily struck by its cadence as it rolled through the phone to his ear. He didn't even care that it was aimed at him—he just wanted to hear it again.

"What's your plan?" he asked, deciding to argue with Koga another time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY REN CHASED HER! I love shy little pinky holds, don't you guys? And I am starting to like Sho… WHICH IS VERY VERY WEIRD FOR ME. I am a bonafide Sho-hater in the manga.
> 
> DON'T WORRY. This is not and never will be a Sho x Kyoko fic. Gross and grosser.


	33. Finding Us

Mori led the blushing Haru through the crowds expertly, his height giving him the advantage of being able to predict the flow of human traffic and avoid congestion. Haru simply followed, her eyes focused on the spot where their fingers linked together. It was the smallest of connections, but somehow it's diminutive size made it all the more potent. She could feel a buzzing in her body racing upwards from her finger, running through her wrist, electrifying her arm, sending shivers all the way to her heart. She risked a peek through her bangs up at Mori. His lean back was slightly hunched forward, a bad habit adapted to try and blend in. As if that were possible, she mused. Mori was easily the most attractive man on the planet. And he was her special secret. She smiled to herself, biting her lip at the pleasing thought.

A blast of cool breeze interrupted her reverie, causing her to look up. Mori had led them straight out of the shopping mall. "Mori?" she asked. He turned to look over his shoulder at her, but didn't stop. "Where are we…?"

Mori just smiled and pointed at a taxi. "We need to talk, but I want you to be comfortable too," he said, his voice soft and kind. "I'd like to take you somewhere else. With less people." Haru stopped, pulling against his hand as she resisted his forward motion. She didn't want to go back to his place. She wasn't ready for that temptation. Not yet. "But not with no people," he said, the sweet smile still on his lips. He understood her so well. "Please trust me?" Haru fidgeted, then nodded.

Flagging down a taxi, Mori held the door open for her to scramble inside, her skirt catching slightly on her legs as she crawled over, causing her to flop in an ungainly heap on her seat. Mori simply grinned, bending himself almost in half to fit low enough and sit next to her. His long legs were pressed tight against the back of the passenger seat, his knees at a sharp angle and his head bent just slightly bent forward to fit without hitting the rear window. Haru pushed her glasses up on her nose and smoothed her skirt, trying not to be amused at the sight of her boyfriend so unceremoniously shoved into the back of a tiny cab. He noticed her smirk anyways and bent his head closer to her, a goofy grin on his face as he just raised his arms and said, "Meh." His ridiculous Americanized gesture in such a tight ball of arms and legs in the back seat sent her over the edge and she roared with pent-up laughter. Mori grinned like a wildcat, thrilled at his ability to draw forth her laughter. She glowed when she smiled. When she laughed, he felt like the world could lose the sun itself and no one would notice.

The driver coughed, reminding Mori he still hadn't given the man directions. He leaned forward and quietly indicated their destination, thanking their driver. The driver merely nodded and headed off into the night. Mori got out his phone and shot off a quick message. The rest of their drive was quiet. The pair listened to the soft traditional music the driver chose and watching the billboards and crowds slowly pass as they made their way through traffic. Ren was thankful. It gave him time to reflect on the past 48 hours. Two days. Two days of dating Kyoko. _A lifetime to come_ … he hoped. He certainly had a lot to learn. All of his past relationships had proceeded on autopilot; a series of predictable and cliché interactions eventually leading to dispassionate sex and then the eventual end of the relationship as the women expected more than he was able to give. He had never understood before their need for connection, for commitment. Some of them had even begged him just to argue with them once! He had thought those women were insane.

But now… he snuck a peek at the girl next to him. She was lost in thought too, her eyes flicking back and forth as the passing sights caught her gaze. _But now, I understand. Somehow even a fight means you've connected. Even arguments are a chance to grow closer. To know her better. To find out what makes her tick—and how to love her with everything I have._ He traced her silhouette with his eyes. _But even better when we aren't fighting. When it's me, and her, and she is at rest in me, and I in her. When I can hold her, and be known even as I am truly known._ He moved his hand to rest over hers, craving connection. Tonight had proven to him that they needed to find another way to deal with the publicity problems they would face dating. He refused to go on another "Date in Disguise" with her again. She was simply too talented of an actress and lost herself inside of every single character she donned. The eternal butterfly was a miracle for the screen—but difficult to date. He rubbed his thumb in a small circle on the back of her hand as he thought. He would find a way for them.

Kyoko felt like her hand was on fire. No, it was a hot coal, and it was slowly setting fire to the rest of her body. She could lose herself in a character only so far, so she knew if she turned and looked at him right now—if they so much as made eye contact while he was showing such simple affection—she would completely lose Haru. She couldn't risk it with the driver in the car still. Surely their destination was close. _And then what?_ she thought. _What are you going to do with this fire in your blood, Mogami Kyoko?_ Kyoko blushed. She had to keep herself under control. He was just rubbing her hand for goodness's sake. She tried to breathe deeply and slowly. _You could always move your hand,_ she heard a small voice of reason inside her head say. Kyoko bit her lip. Sure, she could move her hand. She could. Yes, she could. Ah, but she most definitely was not going to do that.

The taxi stopped just in time to prevent Kyoko from mentally overheating. Her hand twitched as Ren's – _Mori's_? Kyoko mentally flailed to remember her character – left it to pay the driver and open the door. She looked through the window to see where he had brought her to and gasped. Mori shuffled around and opened the door for her and she stuttered out her question. "Y-ya-yashiro-kun's? We came to Yashiro's house?" Mori nodded and reach down to help her out, readjusting his glasses as they slipped forward on his nose from the movement.

"It'll be nice to be ourselves here, Haru," Mori said, his smile genuine and bright as he held her hand tight and led her to the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe barging in on Yuki-kun again... XD


	34. Interrupted

Kanae stood serenely in the hallway, the picture of elegance. Her pale green turtleneck flowed softly over her curves, accentuating the tightness of the dark demin jeans and calf-height black boots she wore. Her long, dark hair hung loose around her shoulders.

Inside the tranquil exterior, a storm brewed. Kanae had no idea what to do with the heady uncertainty filling her. Standing outside Yukihito's door, knowing he was inside alone made her intensely aware of her strange and new inner conflict. She wanted things she'd never even considered before, things well beyond the realm of friendship and harmony she had in her simple relationship with Hiro. She wanted him to touch her bare skin, to feel her hairs prickle with sensitivity as his hands brushed along her length. Kanae cleared her throat to reprimand herself. Her face betrayed absolutely nothing. She delicately tossed her hair back over her shoulder, reaching up to knock quietly on his door.

Within milliseconds the door flew open and Yashiro Yukihito stood beaming at her.

"Mo, you look just like Kyoko-chan," Kanae reprimanded him, her arms subconsciously raised in self-defense against the brightness of incoming aura that usually meant her best friend was nearby and about to explode with noxious public displays of affection. She frowned at Yukihito, waiting for him to school his features.

But he didn't. Instead, Yukihito beamed more broadly. "I will take that as a compliment, as she is someone near and dear to you," he said with a conspiratorial tone. He grabbed her hand and drew her inside the apartment, turning to close the door behind her. His voice lowered as he continued, "And not many people can claim that spot." Her scent was filling the air around him, a light perfume of jasmine and honeysuckle. He breathed deep and raised his other hand to finger her silky hair.

"Mo! Have a respect for personal space," Kanae said sharply, brushing away his hands and moving towards the kitchen. She placed her bag down on his counter and scrutinized his offerings for their meal. Take-out teppanyaki noodles and a light miso vegetable soup. She took the soup and turned to walk to the table but found herself face to face with Yukihito.

Kanae felt her heart rate spike with his closeness. She could smell the spike of scent from the shower gel he used; his hair was still slightly damp from his preparations for her arrival. Blood was rushing to her cheeks but she refused to let herself blush and betray her physical reaction. Instead, she gestured towards the table with her chin. "It's more proper to eat while sitting," she said firmly.

Yukihito simply looked at her, a slow smile growing across his face. He pulled his glasses off and set them behind her on the counter, using the motion as an excuse to place one arm on either side of Kanae, pinning her. "Who said anything about eating yet, Kanae?" he purred. Kanae's eyes flashed with warning but she felt her knees start to tremble. His lips fell open slightly, drawing her gaze to his mouth. Kanae's breath hitched with sudden desire. She wanted Yashiro Yukihito to kiss her long, slow, and deep and there was very little she could do to deny it. He saw something in her shift and took the leap as he stepped forward and pressed his body fully against hers, clasping his hands around her slender waist and capturing her mouth with his.

Kanae moaned, trapped by the soup she was still holding and his kiss. She couldn't push him away lest she drop the soup. Honestly… she didn't even want to push him away. _But I should,_ she groaned inside. _Oh, I should…_ the mental groan became verbal as Yashiro licked her lips with his tongue and she opened to him. His tongue circled hers, his fingers kneading her skin gently as his breath fell hot and fast on her cheeks. She flicked her tongue against his in response and a short, deep groan escaped Yashiro. That sound was like a drug for Kanae and she lost it. Using her elbow, she shoved him back far enough to create space between their torsos and free her pinned arms. She broke the kiss and tossed the soup canister onto the counter, uncaring whether it landed safely or not. Turning to Yukihito, she wrapped her fingers in his damp blonde hair and pulled him down to her. She wanted to devour him. She needed to make him make her feel everything she wanted. Her kisses grew wild and fierce, plunging her tongue in and out of his mouth, leaving both of them red-faced and breathless. She let go of his hair with one hand to help push up on the counter, raising herself to his height. Yukihito stepped in-between her legs, raising his hands to massage her stomach, slowly moving higher as their mouths were drawn together again by their magnetic passion.

Kanae wrapped her legs around Yashiro, her boot heels clicking softly as she linked her ankles together behind him. His torso pressed against her center, the light friction against her jeans causing new sensations of gently building warmth. She pulsed her hips briefly into him, experimenting as they French kissed. Yukihito grabbed her butt and pulled her firmly against him then moved his hands to slide under her turtleneck. Kanae gasped against his mouth at the feeling of his skin against hers, her skin reacting with goosebumps just the way she'd imagined and desired. She let her head fall back slightly as she reveled in the feeling. Yukihito slid his hands forward and up her torso, the smoothness of her skin pulling him onwards. He reached her bra line and paused, looking up at her. She met his eyes. Without a word, without a change of expression, Kanae simply reached down and pulled her sweater up and over her head, her hair cascading down to rest gently on her lacy bra and shoulders. Yukihito was transfixed. He bent forward and lightly kissed the top of her breast where it mounded above her bra. Kanae shuddered and grabbed the back of his head, holding him against her chest when he tried to stand up.

"Yuki," she said breathlessly, "do it again." Yashiro reached behind her with one hand and unclasped her bra, the material falling forward loosely to reveal her white mounds with light tan nipples. Yukihito moaned and dove his head down, drawing her breast into his mouth with a kiss equal in passion to the one they'd shared earlier. Kanae moaned loudly and bucked her hips against him. This was so much more than she'd ever expected. The sheer volume and intensity of feeling. The intimacy of allowing another person to see and cherish and consume the parts of you that you spent a lifetime hiding. She gripped his head as if she would never let him leave. Yukihito swirled his tongue around and around her nipple as he sucked. Her scent was even more intense here, close to where she sprayed the delicate perfume, and he felt as though he as losing his mind. He brought his other hand up to knead her unattended breast, flicking her free nipple gently as he feasted on her skin. Kanae arched her back with pleasure, grinding against him as he licked. She started to moan, feeling the need build and concentrate in her center. Yukihito pulled back to look up at her, his face red, hair disheveled, and eyes filled with longing.

"God," he said hoarsely, "you are the most beautiful woman on earth." Kanae blushed, his words more embarrassing to her than anything they'd done this far. She started to object but Yukihito interrupted her by pulled her off the counter, using his arm to wrap her legs even more tightly around his waist. He stepped back and braced his arms under her butt, carrying her over to the sofa. Without another word, he gently laid her down on its length and knelt on the floor beside her. Kanae covered her eyes with rising embarrassment as his eyes drank her in from head to toe, her entire upper half bare before him. He let her, choosing instead to lean forward and lick her just above her belly button. Kanae twitched violently with the shock of his hot tongue against her stomach, raising herself partway off the couch. He ignored her and continued, licking around and around her belly button, moving his hands so that one embraced her breast, caressing and teasing her nipple, and the other sank lower, resting above her mound on her jeans. Kanae moaned and lay back, unable to hold herself upright. His tongue almost tickled, but it was more than a tickle. She felt the warmth of his hand on her mound like a hot coal, and the closeness of it to his mouth made her ache with an unknown need for him to fulfill. She couldn't stop them – her hips rose against his hand, seeking greater pressure.

Yukihito felt her move and looked up at her. The sight of Kanae flushed, panting, and bare before him was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He'd never been with another woman before, and in this moment, he was both intensely thankful that this part of him was hers alone and desperately anxious. He wasn't sure what to do next. She was clearly waiting for something, but what should he do? His cock throbbed in answer, begging him to do exactly what he wanted to do and rip off the rest of her clothes and plunge inside her. But Yashiro Yukihito had read enough smutty fanfics of his favorite pair to know about the importance of foreplay. At least, he hoped he had. He licked his lips and shifted his hand up, making Kanae moan with impatience as the heat and pressure left him. Fumbling slightly, he undid her jeans button and zipper. He paused and Kanae's eyes opened, fixing on him. His breath caught as they held eye contact, making his movements even more intense.

Kanae didn't know what this was about to feel like, but she knew she wanted it. She wanted his hand exactly where it was headed. She wanted him to truly touch her; her body was aching for it. She wanted to see him do it too, a wild and seductive thought. Her body cried out to arch her back and close her eyes, pressing upwards towards his touch, but she held herself still, waiting, watching, wanting.

Yukihito's hand trembled as he touched the top of her underwear. He didn't even know what color they were; her eyes pierced him and he couldn't break her gaze. He felt his face flushing as his breath came in short, sharp pants. His fingers brushed against her lower curls and she let out a slow hiss of breath, her shoulders tense with the effort of holding herself still. He moved his hand lower still, their eyes still locked, chests rising and falling more and more quickly as each waited for his fingers to meet her center. He found the top of her slit and gently pressed inside, feeling her warmth spike against his finger as he entered her folds. His finger grazed her clit and she jerked forward, her eyes closing involuntarily as breath rushed out of her. Yukihito paused and stroked her again, making Kanae arch back and grind up against him. Again he rubbed, starting to circle the spot, and Kanae moaned, moving her hips under him in small, tense jerks. "More…" she forced out. "More!"

Yashiro pushed four of his fingers farther down, exploring her slit but leaving his thumb to keep playing with the spot they'd found together. She tried to open her eyes again – she wanted to see him, to memorize every single moment and every single expression he made. She caught a glimpse of him, his eyes heated with passion, his mouth open and face flushed as he watched her reactions. Just then his finger found her entrance and she cried out, her eyes forced closed again by the sheer passion of his exploration.

"Wet…" he panted, not expecting to find her so warm and wet beneath his touch. A woman's body was so different, so beautiful and intricate. He slid his finger farther inside, making Kanae moan with a sound that came from deep inside. Slowly, carefully, he moved his finger in and out, increasing the speed as he watched her. His member throbbed painfully even against his loose athletic pants, desperate to replace his fingers and feel her clench around him. Yashiro pressed himself against the couch, leaning forward to finally stop watching her expression as he drew her breast into his mouth.

Kanae wanted more. More depth, more of his mouth, more of him covering her. She was so exposed here, with him down on the floor. His mouth on her breast now was not enough – she wanted him everywhere. She tried to reach her boot to strip it off but couldn't focus long enough. "Yuki," she panted. "Take them off." Yashiro pulled up to look at her and saw her efforts to remove her boots. He pulled both hands away and she cried out, instantly regretting her decision, but Yuki's actions were swift and expedient as he expertly stripped off her boots and then pulled her jeans and underwear to follow, letting them fall beneath her legs. She was completely naked before him; he was fully clothed above her. He almost took the time to strip his own clothes off but then she whispered his name and he made the lightning decision that their first time—his first time—would be entirely about her.

He bent low and kissed her deeply, moaning into her mouth as her tongue rose to meet his with such desperate need. Her naked hips bucked upwards, crying out without words for his attention and he responded, moving his hand to reclaim her mound and plunge a finger inside her. He added a second and she gasped into his mouth, the increased fullness pressing against her inner walls. He cupped her breast and played with her nipple with his free hand as she bucked against him and he moved to kiss her neck and then bare breast feverishly, trying to convey his desire for her with his hands and his mouth. His speed increased; his palm rubbing against her clit as he filled her with his fingers over and over. She grabbed his head with her fingers and held him tight against her breast as her hips beat up against his hand, seeking release. The heat from his hands filled her, running all throughout her veins, building and crashing against her walls, racing with her blood all the way to the tips of her being and finally exploding outwards as she cried out his name in climax. He left his fingers inside her as she clenched around him, whispering his name over and over. Slowly, he released her. Slowly, he sat upright. He looked dazed and Kanae gently drew his face down to hers for a long, slow kiss.

"Your turn," she whispered, moving her hand down to pull his pants down. Yukihito blushed beet-red. Kanae smiled, the afterglow filling her with a luxuriant feeling. She wanted to know the power of her own womanhood and bring him to his fulfillment too. Yuki smiled back and leaned down to kiss her, shifting his hips forward so she could easily tug his pants down, revealing his boxer-briefs.

The doorbell rang.

Yukihito sat up straight in alarm. Kanae shushed him but sat up too, using the new position to start to pull his shirt off and reveal his toned abs. He shivered at the feeling of her soft hands on his bare chest and raised his arms to let her strip him.

The doorbell rang again.

Yukhitio groaned, trying to ignore it. He pulled his shirt off the rest of the way and leaned forward to pull Kanae in, feeling her soft breasts pressing against his bare chest. He moaned, rubbing against her.

The doorbell rang twice, insistently. Yashiro cursed and stood, striding over to push the button. He took a deep breath and answered. "Ah—hello?"

"Yashiro! Can we barge in—" the rest of Ren's happy voice melted into incomprehensible mush as Yukihito's brain processed the interruption. He let go of the speaker button and turned to Kanae who was sitting bolt upright on the couch, still fully naked.

"It's Ren," he said. "Here."

Kanae nodded.

"I can tell him to leave," he said, turning back to the intercom to push the button.

"No!" Kanae shouted suddenly. "Mo, no," she repeated more calmly, starting to search for her clothing. "This is your job, Yuki. I will not have you becoming less than the professional you are merely because of me." Yukihito watched her look for her clothes in anguish.

"But…" he whimpered.

"Just find out what he wants and send him home," she said briskly. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

Yashiro whimpered again without words, but pressed the entrance button when Kanae sent him a look that would freeze blood. She refused to let him put her over his perfect reputation. Especially not when it could potentially impact the career of a top actor. She looked about her in frustration.

"Yuki, where are my underwear?" she asked urgently.

Yashiro, tugging his own clothes into place, hurried over to help her look. They couldn't find the pair anywhere.

"Mo! They're coming up, aren't they?" she asked. Yashiro nodded sheepishly.

"I buzzed them in a minute ago," he said. Kanae bit her lip in frustration.

"Next time, we do this in your bedroom," she prounounced. "With better organization." Yashiro laughed. He didn't ever want lovemaking to become too organized—and somehow, he didn't think Kanae truly did anyways. She pulled her jeans on without the underwear, the material coarse against her extra-sensitive mound. It made her gasp and Yashiro stood, embracing her and starting to kiss her neck.

"Stop it, mo! I will not have him walk in on us in the actual act," she said, pushing his head away. He responded by reaching around to cup her breasts, making her shudder with renewed desire. "Yuki—" she protested.

"I know…" he said. "But I can't help it." He released her and she put her boots by the door and ran into the kitchen to grab her sweater and pull it over her hair, trying to pat it down smoothly. She nodded and was trying to remember the best escape route from his apartment when a forceful knock on the door interrupted her plans. Yashiro looked back at her for confirmation and upon her okay swung open the door with a cheerful, "Ren! What a wonderful surprise!"


	35. Barging In

Ren pressed the call button for the third time. They'd waited on the step for several minutes now, and Kyoko was started to get fidgety. The longer they loitered, the more likely one of the passersby would get a good glimpse at Ren, who'd stopped stooping over already and was far too tall and muscular to be ignored out of hand. Ren tapped his foot. He'd spoken with Yashiro that afternoon and knew he had been planning "a simple quiet night in." Surely Yashiro's "simple quiet" didn't mean going to bed before 8:30 PM? Ren checked his watch. He looked up and down the street, trying to think of an alternate place to talk with Kyoko— _not_ Haru. He had turned towards the local park, figuring a swingset at night would fit the bill as well as anything else, when the intercom suddenly buzzed to life.

"Ah—hello?" Yashiro's voice came through the static.

"Yashiro!" Ren called happily. "Can we barge in on your quiet night in? I sent you a text earlier; sorry for the short notice."

A long pause ensued and Ren frowned at the intercom speaker. He stepped back and craned his neck to look at Yashiro's window. Lights on. He'd definitely buzzed the right apartment. This lapse was very unusual for his manager. Maybe he had been in the shower? He grinned down at Kyoko to reassure her. "Maybe the intercom is also affected by Yashiro's electronics-slaughtering hands," he whispered. They laughed together at the thought of Yashiro destroying an entire apartment building's comm system with a single touch.

The buzzer sounded and the gates unlocked. Ren cocked his head in amusement. "I guess that means we can come up?" he said, shrugging as he led Kyoko inside. He held her hand gently still, his finger continuing to rub small circles around and around the back of her hand. She wouldn't feel entirely at ease until they were inside Yukihito's apartment and she didn't have to worry about prying eyes.

The elevator wait and ride up was swift at this time of night – too late for dinner guests departing but too early for the night club crowd, the lobby was almost empty except for Kyoko and Ren. They stood in comfortable silence as they rode up to Yashiro's, both enjoying the simple pleasure of holding hands. Ren turned and looked down at her. "Someday," he said, "we will be able to walk like this, anywhere we want, as ourselves." Kyoko smiled up at him.

"I would like that, Ren," she quietly said. "Very much."

The doors opened and Ren and Kyoko made their way to Yashiro's door. "At least his door isn't electronic," he chuckled, "so he shouldn't have a problem opening it for us when we knock!" He knocked twice and stepped back as the door swung open before his fist could hit a third time.

"Ren! What a wonderful surprise!" Yashiro beamed at Ren. His hair was mussed and his glasses slightly askew, giving him a funny scattered-brained professor type image. "And Kyoko! Together!" his voice seemed to spike an octave on the word "together," his eyes fixated on their clasped hands. He didn't even seem to notice their unique style of clothing. Yashiro started wiggling uncontrollably. True, ever since the phone call from Ren two days ago he had mentally known the two were together, but SEEING IS BELIEVING and every single fiber of Yukihito's fangirl body was rapidly disintegrating into Ultimate Moe Mode. His eyes grew large, round, and ultra-shiny. His smile curled at the ends with the sheer force of joy exuded from his soul. He rose up on his toes and clasped his own hands together in unconscious mimicry of their hands.

"MO!" Kanae couldn't stop herself. She had been considering sneaking out the back and avoiding the sheer force of Kyoko-Bomb likely to be unleashed upon her when her best friend processed fully what her presence at Yukihito's alone meant—but every second of watching Yuki's transformation into some strange bouncing ball of Pure Moe was too eerily reminiscent of Kyoko's embarrassing public displays of affection and Kanae had to stop it. "Yuki! Calm down, mo. They're just holding hands. It's not a wedding ring!"

Kanae had said exactly the wrong thing. Yashiro's eyes actually became supernaturally heart-shaped at the words "wedding ring" in reference to Ren and Kyoko and tiny beams of pink light exploded from his ears. He sighed in bliss and fell backwards, overloaded. A shocked Kanae caught him in her arms, staring at him in wonder. She scoffed, trying to keep her façade of displeasure up.

"Kyoko, Tsuruga-san, please ah, come in. Mo, I'll just be a moment while I take care of this pile of Yashiro," she spoke brusquely, nodding towards the couch as she dragged Yashiro backwards. Ren and Kyoko were frozen in the doorway. A small whine started to emerge from Kyoko's lips. Kanae looked up in alarm and almost threw Yukihito onto the couch in her rush to find cover from the looming outburst.

"mmmmmMMmMMMMMMmmmmMMOOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKKKKKKKOOOOOOOOO!" Kyoko's voice started quiet and grew into a full-blown screech of wild joy. She threw her hands wide, losing her grip on Ren's hand, and ran full-speed for her Best Friend in the Whole Wide World.

Kanae had to decide between dropping Yukihito on the floor to run and save herself or bracing herself in position. She chose to stand firm, and squeezed her eyes shut with her legs held akimbo, ready for impact. Kyoko slammed into her with a hug carrying all the weight of her love, wrapping her arms around Kanae in a bear hug. "MOKO! YOU'RE HERE! YOU'RE HERRRRREEEEE!" she sang as she swayed, holding Kanae. Kanae's face was turning more and more red. Her grasp on Yukihito's arms to hold him up prevented her from dislodging Kyoko.

"Kyoko-chan, you're going to make me pass out," she muttered. Kyoko didn't hear her, too busy singing Moko's praises. "Kyoko," Kanae repeated. Finally losing patience, Kanae yelled, "KYOKO! CUT IT OUT!"

Kyoko froze and dropped her arms to her side in a military salute. "I'm sorry, Moko! I'm sorry! But you're HEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRREEE!" Kanae saw her friend start to melt in wonder again and cut her short.

"I am. Now SIT," she commanded. Kyoko sat on the floor.

Ren had observed the entire scene from the doorway. He laughed when Kyoko promptly sat and finally came inside, closing the door quietly. Walking over to the group, he leaned down and offered to help Kanae lift Yashiro onto the couch. He arranged his legs comfortably and moved to sit in the armchair across from the couch. Kanae nodded, wiping her hands. _What a mess_. "I will make tea," she simply said, her voice cool and controlled.

Kyoko bounced up. "I will help, Moko!"

"MO! No! You sit!" Kanae pointed vigorously at the floor, leaving Kyoko no option but to obey. Kyoko sat. Kanae moved into the kitchen to boil water and get the supplies. Yashiro smiled in his happy stupor and shifted his feet, kicking a pillow off the couch and onto the floor along with a crumpled piece of black fabric. Ren's eyes grew suddenly wide as he recognized the item. Kyoko leaned forward and picked up the pillow and the fabric, holding it up. She blinked twice and dropped both to the ground.

"…Ren… is that…?" she stuttered. He simply nodded. Kyoko covered her mouth and looked at the sleeping Yashiro, then at Kanae, busy in the kitchen. "…is that… from…?" she gestured with her head at Kanae. Ren shrugged, and gestured at her to go and talk to Kanae. Kyoko shook her head wildly. "Moko-san doesn't have a boyfriend," she whispered urgently. Ren grinned like a wildcat and raised his eyebrows at her.

"Neither did you two days ago," he whispered. "Go talk to her."

Kyoko let the information slowly sink in. Kanae at Yukihito's house, alone. Without telling Kyoko her plans. Yukihito's slightly mussed appearance, like someone had been running their hands through his hair. Kyoko glanced over at Kanae. Her hair in front was perfectly coiffed as usual, but the back was strangely frizzy, like it had been repeatedly rubbed on something creating static. And then… these. She poked at the underwear. Her heart started to buzz as the possibility that Kanae and Yukihito were _actually_ —Kyoko leapt up and raced across the room to Moko's side.

Kanae heard the sudden footfalls and turned, holding her hands straight out. "No!" she shouted, making Kyoko freeze mid-stride in the kitchen. The sudden shout roused Yukihito, who shook his head groggily and sat up with a dreamy smile.

"Kanae," Yukihito said slowly. "I just had the most delicious dream. We were interrupted by Ren and Kyoko holding hands. Can you even…" he caught sight of Kyoko frozen in the kitchen and froze himself. Slowly, Yukihito turned to look around and saw Ren. He started beaming again, realizing it wasn't a dream—then noticed Ren's foot tapping near a pair of satin black underwear. His face flushed bright red and he unconsciously moved to push up glasses that weren't on his face. Ren set his own fake glasses aside and stood up to go sit next to his friend.

"So, Yashiro," he said calmly. "Have some news to share?"

Ren's question unfroze Kyoko. Her legs dropped to a normal stance as she brought her hands up to a prayer position in front of her face. "Mokooooooo," she said softly. "Moko-moko-moko-moko tell meeeeeeeee."

Kanae and Yukihito exchanged glances. He smiled and shrugged. "When should we plan our first double date?" Everyone exploded at once into happy chatter as the two pairs of friends rejoiced in their newfound happiness. Kanae tried to hold back her emotions but Kyoko's pure and uncaged joy in her friend's happiness was contagious and she couldn't help smiling broadly.

Tea finished brewing, Kanae and Kyoko carefully brought two trays – one with the tea set and one with fresh cut fruit for snacks – back to the living room. The two men were casually comparing notes on first dates, each trying to prove their plans were the most thoughtful.

"Ren, I'm sorry, but if you honestly think that time in a karaoke bar disguised as strange street musicians is more romantic than a four-course meal at the best French restaurant this side of town, we have a lot of education to pursue," Yukihito finished, patting Ren on the shoulder.

Kyoko chimed in. "But it was fun! And besides," she continued, "he didn't have much choice. We can't very well appear in public together. Unlike you two." Her longing glance at Yukihito and Kanae made Kanae roll her eyes and Yukihito blush. Ren sighed, rubbing his hands together. He was also envious of the ease with which Yashiro and Kotonami could interact. He glanced down at the panties, forgotten by most of the group as they lay half under the pillow. They couldn't have been dating much longer than he and Kyoko, but to have already gotten far enough to do _that_ and still sit comfortably next to one another—even after being caught almost red-handed by he and Kyoko? He rubbed his chin, thinking about Kyoko's reactions. Running away. Blushing furiously. Apologizing. There had been the one time she'd initiated, true; but that was likely due to Sekusha or the rum.

"Yashiro," Ren interjected. "Think we could chat?" He gestured to the balcony. Yashiro looked at him questioningly. He seemed to find whatever he was looking for and turned to Kanae, his eyebrows raised to seek permission.

"Mo, you think I can't ever be without you? What am I, a lapdog?" Kanae scoffed. She stood up and gathered the plates. "Kyoko-chan, let's wash these up." Kyoko leapt up, eager to help Moko.

Once outside, Ren dove right in. "How did you do it?"

Yashiro studied his charge. "Do what, exactly, Ren?"

"The panties. So soon," he waved his hand towards the living room. "Not that I'm obsessed, or anything," Ren said, blushing. "I mean, I want to wait for the right time, but…" he sighed, turning to look at the night. Dark clouds covered his face as he compared the obvious difference in ease of relationship between the two pairs. "You and Kanae seem so natural. When I get physical with Kyoko, she runs. Literally. Runs."

Yashiro couldn't help the burst of laughter, but Ren's responding pungent malice-filled glare scared the laughter right out of him. He stood very still and wide-eyed, measuring his words carefully. "It's not that you're doing something wrong, Ren," he said, patting the air in a soothing motion. "They're just very different women. Kanae is strong," he continued, turning to look out at the stars. A soft smile grew on him as he talked about Kotonami Kanae. "She's independent, and she knows what she wants and when. She also hasn't had any relationship trouble in the past, so we aren't dealing with baggage." Yashiro paused, looking at his hands. "At least, as long as I make sure to never, ever mention wanting kids." He smirked and looked at Ren. "Every relationship is different and will have different strengths and weaknesses. It's because a relationship is two people blending life. There's bound to be stops and starts and need for compromise. If I'm with Kanae, she may have to be enough for me. Right now at least, she never ever wants a family beyond a husband and wife." He turned to look inside at the two women. "And honestly, that's enough for me too… as long as it's her."

Ren watched his friend as he gazed at Kanae. He followed his gaze to the women inside. "As long as it's her," he repeated thoughtfully. Kyoko's past meant their relationship may look very different at first than his many, many highly detailed dreams. But walking that path together, at her pace, was a once-in-a-lifetime journey. He turned to look back at the night.

"It wasn't that long ago that Kyoko had to walk beside me without fully understanding," he confessed. "She saved me from some pretty dark places. I want to know her story, Yashiro. And I want to be a part of the next chapters. The best ones," he said, sending his words up to heaven like a prayer.

Yashiro patted his friend's shoulder again. "The best ones," he agreed.

Ren and Yukihito came back inside to find their girlfriends ensconced on the couch, comparing notes about their recent acting projects. Yukihito smiled at Kanae and offered his hand to her, helping her stand. "Kanae, shall I escort you home?" he asked, discreetly grabbing the discarded undies and stuffing them in his back pocket. She simply nodded, saying a brief goodbye to Ren. Kyoko made to leap from the couch into what Kanae knew would be a full-body tackle-hug and was prevented by a stiff-arm block to the head from Kanae. "Mo, a 'see you soon' is enough."

Kyoko whimpered out a loud, "Seeeee YOU SOOOOOOOOOON MOKOOOOOOOOOO!" as Kanae and Yukihito made for the door. Yukihito turned before he closed the door behind them and winked at Ren.

"The best times," he said simply. The door shut behind them and Ren and Kyoko sighed together, each still slightly taken aback by the evening's revelations. Soon, though, the silence in the room became apparent. Kyoko fidgeted, fussing with her hair and trying to decide a plan of action. Ren merely watched her, thinking through his words.

Kyoko stood and turned to head for the kitchen. "I'll make us a snack!" she said with determination.

"We've already eaten dinner," he said, "and a snack."

Kyoko paused, biting her lip. She turned to look at him. He smiled at her, a genuine smile, full of warmth. She felt her cheeks grow hot and flushed. She felt an urge to flee from his magnetic draw, but clenched her fists. _Be more mature, Kyoko,_ she told herself. She smiled nervously at him, watching his smile soften as he watched her emotions play across her face.

Ren stood slowly so as not to alarm her. She seemed like a startled baby deer. God, how he loved this woman. So full of energy, emotion, and life. He wanted to know her inside and out, to cherish her, to grow with her—and also to just sit beside her in peace. _Let's start there,_ he said. He gently touched the back of her hand and pointed at the couch with his other hand. He asked the question with his eyes only.

Kyoko gulped. A short while ago this couch had somehow been grace with Moko's panties. The warning doors in Kyoko's mind started to slam shut. _Don't go there, don't go there, don't go there_ , the alarm system blared. She looked at Ren and a sudden memory of _his_ couch stirred in her. _Off! Take it off!_ she had shouted. Kyoko blushed even more.

Ren sat and patted the couch next to him. "Kyoko," he said softly. "Let's just talk. You and me. No characters, no walls." He smiled at her, raising his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I promise. Just talk." Kyoko looked him in the eyes. Deep, brown, earnest eyes looked back at her. In that moment, everything clicked all over again for her.

They were here. He was here. She was here. Not for practicing roles, not with any excuses or assignments or even illness. Simply because they each wanted to be here, with one another.

"Tsuruga Ren," she breathed.

He cocked his head at her, puzzled. "Yes, Miss Mogami?" he replied, a smile playing across his lips.

"Nothing. Just… realizing." She sat down next to him, her hands folded in her lap. On second thought, she took one hand and gently rested it on top of his. He curled his fingers upwards, clasping them through and around her smaller, slender fingers.

Kyoko took a deep breath. He made her feel so safe – and yet so precarious at the same time. She knew, though, that the two emotions were rooted in different causes. With Ren, she was safe. Safe from being used. Safe from being underappreciated. Safe from being cast aside. But she was in danger – of being completely swept away by the force of her love for him, until nothing remained of her drive and her goals except being with him. She entwined her own fingers with his, returning the gesture.

"Ren," she began quietly. "If we are to… date…" she continued, somewhat haltingly before the words came out in a rush. "Then we need to do with clarity and purpose." She turned to look at him, her golden eyes shining with determination. "I refuse to lose myself in your brightness. And I also refuse to become a shield that could dull that brightness." Kyoko paused, trying to find the words. "You are Japan's top actor. I still haven't even debuted! If the public finds out—"

"They will love you," Ren interjected. "I know it."

"You don't know it," Kyoko reprimanded him. "And besides, I'm not the only one at risk. What if being together holds back your career? I do not want you to turn any jobs down because you need to worry about me. I don't want anyone to say anything about you because you're with someone so unknown. I—" Kyoko faltered, breaking her gaze from his. "I would rather end this now than become someone who holds you back."

"Kyoko," Ren said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "Instead, I think we should both be worried if I will become someone who will hold you back."

Kyoko's face jerked towards him. "No! I—" she exclaimed, but his finger resting on her lips silenced her protests.

"I have seen you grow all year. I've seen the way you take my small bits of advice and transform them into characters that live beyond the role. You are magical, Kyoko. In a way that even your fairies will have a hard time competing with."

Kyoko's eyes shined with unshed tears. _Worthless. Burden. Incompetent. Lazy. Tag-along. Dull._ These were the words that had been burned into her mind. These were the words that her beloveds had always used to describe her. "…fairies…?" she whispered, her hand clutching Ren's.

"Very, very jealous fairies," he nodded, bringing his head to rest on her shoulder. He sighed, his breath ruffling her short hair. His thumb traced patterns on the back of her hand again. "The world is waiting for your brightness, Kyoko." He looked up at her. "I am yours. Now, and in the days to come. I hope you know that everything I've done since we started dating—I never meant to hurt you or embarrass you. I want you to glow, Kyoko. From your career, from pride in yourself, and from knowing…" Ren paused. He raised himself up to look at her squarely. He smiled, resting his hand on the side of her face and gently rubbing her temple. She watched him carefully, feeling like her heart was about to burst.

Ren slowly brought his forehead to rest against hers, closing his eyes. He sighed again, breathing in her scent. "From knowing how much I love you," he finished quietly.

Kyoko felt her heart fill to bursting. Warm tears slowly traced their way down the side of her face as his words sank into her soul like a balm. She raised her hand to mimic his action, resting it against the side of his face. He was so very, very _real._ Ren shifted and pulled her in to a hug, holding her against him tightly. She rested her head on his shoulder, at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EMYM--Makes Me Want You side fic lemon for YashiNae updated!


	36. Lessons With Chocolate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GETTING INTO SOME OF MY FAV PARTS OF THE FIC THUS FAR

Sho couldn't believe he was doing this. He pouted in the corner of the food court, his face shaded by dark sunglasses and a low-brimmed cap. He shrugged farther into the raised collar of his leather jacket. Part of him wanted to run. The other part was too incredibly curious about what Koga was planning to allow any homeward movement. So instead, he pouted. Arms crossed, legs spread, face scowling, Sho waited.

Fifteen minutes after their agreed-upon meeting time, Koga strolled into the mall with his eyes glued to his phone, rapidly texting. He wore a plain, tightly-fitted gray shirt with a boatneck cut and dark jeans. A ballcap shaded his face, his short dark hair cropping out just around his ears and neckline. Koga smirked when he looked up from his phone to see Sho.

"Fuwa," he said. "Time to learn."

Sho scoffed. "As if you have anything to teach me about pleasing women," he growled. "Number two."

Koga refused to rise to such obvious bait from this… _child._ He simply smiled coldly, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Lesson number one," he began. "Women hate men who are full of themselves. Especially ones with no possible justification for the obsession." He slowly walked towards Sho. Sho straightened, adjusting his hat as Koga drew near. Koga looked him up and down, measuring. "If you want to win that Mogami girl, you definitely need to practice some humility. Or at least the pretense of it."

Sho bristled. "I don't want to win _her,_ I said! I just want to WIN."

Koga laughed, "Right." He turned and walked into the mall area. "Whatever you say."

Sho shoved his hands in his pockets and followed after Koga, muttering to himself. The actor stopped in front of a chocolatier, considering.

"What," Sho said rudely. "Are you hungry already?" Koga just looked at him disapprovingly.

"Part of proving you're not a self-centered prick is doing something for the other person occasionally. Not all the time—the last thing you want is a woman expecting a treat every time you show up like one of Pavlov's dogs. Keep her guessing. And all women love chocolates," he finished, entering the store.

"Not all women," Sho muttered. "Some just like fairies." He trailed after Koga anyways. The smell of dark chocolate smashed into his senses like a tidal wave when he crossed the threshold.

Koga had already chosen a small set of four chocolates and was paying the clerk. He turned to Sho, opening the box.

"Chocolate," he said slowly, pulling out a small piece of jet black chocolate, "is an aphrodisiac." He held the chocolate up, inviting Sho to look at it closely. Sho leaned in. "The smell. The way it melts on your tongue, filling your mouth with luxurious smoothness just like certain other experiences. A box of chocolates can fill her senses with thoughts of you, just the way you were filled with the sight and smell of this store when you opened the door." He paused to watch Sho. Sho was staring at him, mesmerized by his words. He remembered sharing the chocolate kiss with Kyoko – if you could call that act of war sharing – but it had been nothing like the experience Koga was describing. "You try," he said, holding the chocolate out for Sho. Without thinking, Sho leaned in and ate the chocolate out of Koga's fingers. He felt the briefest of contact between his mouth and Koga's skin and flushed as the chocolate started to melt in his mouth exactly as Koga described. Koga's hand was still in the air. He was staring at Sho without blinking.

Sho chewed and swallowed the chocolate. "What are the other flavors?" he asked. That one would certainly work on Kyoko. It was much better than the ones he had brought. "This store definitely makes better chocolate than that trash I bought before. Happened just like you said. Last time it tasted like crap," he finished, turning to ask the clerk for another package. Koga merely watched him. Sho paid for his chocolates and turned back.

"Lesson two," Koga said, still examining Sho carefully. "First impressions matter. Even if you've met a thousand times, each time she sees you is a new first impression." He reached out and tapped Sho's chest. "And you have no idea how to dress yourself."

Sho threw his arms out in dismay. "What the crap! Women love me!" He plucked at his shirt. "I'm already on the Most Desirable list and I just debuted! Come on, man."

"Number 7," Koga reminded him. "And with good reason." He left the shop and turned to walk down the hall. Sho groaned but followed after him.

"What, are we going to play dress up now? Are you serious?" he moaned, stalking after Koga. "I do not need your help!"

Koga just raised his hand over his shoulder without looking back, dismissing Sho. He reached the Armandy boutique and smiled. How would Kyoko react if Sho wore her current favorite's brand? He traced over Sho's physique in his head. Far, far shorter than Ren—but if he chose a different cut of jacket, and the right slim cut jeans… He smiled and stepped inside.

Sho stood outside the store, staring up at the label's name. "Seriousssllyyyyyy," he moaned. He followed Koga inside. "I'm not copying that jerk just to get her attention," he hissed at Koga when he caught up to him by the dressing room.

Koga scoffed. "As if _you_ could copy Tsuruga Ren. You pale before him in every single comparison." Sho started to freak out, but Koga continued before he could burst. "But given alterations to the cuts and style to suit your physique—you could definitely hold your own. Before anyone except me, naturally."

"Oh, _naturally,_ " Sho sneered. Koga ignored him and beckoned for a clerk. He ordered several items and shoved Sho into the dressing room to try them on.

Several minutes later, a very uncomfortable Fuwa emerged. His visual kei leather lay in a heap on the floor of the dressing room. Instead, he wore a fitted white dress shirt that only buttoned halfway up the chest, a partially undone tie, and a slim cut dark gray suit jacket with matching tight-fitting dress pants. His feet were bare, the pants just grazing the ankles.

Koga's pupils dilated slightly while he weighed the results of the experiment. "Much improved," he simply said, standing and walking over. He slowly circled Sho, adjusting the clothing slightly here and there as he walked. Sho felt his heart rate spike every time Koga's fingers brushed his outfit, definitely because he was dying to get out of these clothes. He was just reacting in embarrassment. Just embarrassed. Koga came around to his front again and adjusted Sho's tie, pulling it slightly tighter and to sit more to the left. Sho's heart hammered. _Just embarrassed_ , he repeated.

Koga stepped back, his hands on his hips. "A woman may say she's not swayed by outward appearance," he said thoughtfully, "but if you were to show up like this, with chocolates…" he trailed off, thinking. Something was still missing.

"Well f*** that!" Sho fumed. "I'm not dressing up in a friggin' costume for that cow!"

"Ah," Koga said. "The missing piece." He walked straight up to Sho and placed his finger over his mouth. Sho's eyes went wide. He felt his nerves go lit with the sensation of Koga's finger touching his lips. His legs shook slightly from the effort of standing still, waiting. Waiting. An insane thought crossed his mind. _What would he do if I pretended his finger was a piece of chocolate right now?_

Koga spoke again, "Your stupidity is your greatest weakness." Anger filled Sho, all thoughts of chocolate banished.

"Who are you calling stupid?! You ass, you—" he ranted, but Koga merely placed his finger over his mouth again.

"Shh, don't be a child," Koga said.

Sho glared at him, furious. "I'm done," he snarled at Koga. "You've done nothing but insult and taunt me since you arrived. I thought you said you were going to help. Ass." He shrugged out of the jacket and threw it on the floor, ripping the tie off over his head. He started to undo the shirt but got tangled up with the top button. "Screw it," he fumed and stalked off to the cashier. "Shirts and pants. Ring them up now." The cashier nodded meekly, taking his card. Sho stalked back to the dressing room and scooped up his belongings, shoving his military boots on over the tight dress pants. He thumped back over to the cashier and grabbed his card then made to leave.

"I have been helping you," Koga said calmly. "Ass."

Sho froze. He turned. He shot Koga a death glare. Koga stared back, bored. Sho snarled and stalked off.

Outside the mall, Sho sat slumped on a bench as he waited for his driver to pull up. Images of Koga filled his mind – with chocolate, gripping his tie, touching his lips, covered in chocolate—"What the f*** is going on?" he muttered, gripping his head with his hands. He rubbed his face vigorously, then jumped back as his eyes opened to Koga standing directly in front of him.

Koga sighed in frustration. Fuwa really could be quite attractive, if he would just learn. The way he could actually carry off military boots and a designer suit was quite intriguing. But that temper! _Child_ , he repeated in his head. Fuwa's driver pulled up, but Koga turned and waved him off. The driver looked at Sho for confirmation. Sho glanced up at Koga, then grimaced and waved his driver away.


	37. Like A Lover

Koga sat next to Sho on the bench. He leaned back against the bench and stared up at the night sky, letting his legs stretch out in front of him. Sho watched him out of the corner of his eye. He looked at Koga's legs and surreptitiously stretched his own legs out, measuring. _Damn_ , he thought. _Beat again_. Koga's legs reached past his by just a couple inches, but he was still shorter. He crossed his ankles to hide the obvious difference and leaned back as well.

The two sat silent for a moment. People passed, going in and out of the mall carrying bags or pushing strollers. Families chattered and lovers giggled, hands entwined. Koga continued to look at the sky, apparently lost in thought. Sho sat up and let his shoulders slump, itching his arm. Maybe he should call his driver back. He looked at Koga. _What am I even doing here?_

"Do you actually have a plan?" he demanded. "Or are you just being a tool?"

Koga pulled a half-frown, turning just his head to look at Sho disapprovingly. Without sitting up, he started talking. "Music videos are an excellent reason for intimate body contact. Your manager arranges her appearance in your new MV. Make sure the location is the beach. Less clothes, more contact. Rewrite the lyrics to make it more passionate. Show your true emotions. Meet her before the shoot and make sure to dress correctly," he looked at Sho again, his eyes disapproving. "Wear what I tell you. And bring chocolates. Most importantly, apologize." Sho balked, but Koga continued without giving him space to object. "We make sure the acting script is written for two lovers. And in the end, that's what you become in reality."

Sho stared at him. He turned and looked out into the crowds, thinking. It could work. It might work. She was a sucker for apologies, and if Koga was right about women… he turned to look at Koga again. "Why do I have to rewrite my song?"

Koga scoffed. "I've listened to your music. Your latest one is decent, but it's too mournful. We don't need her to think about your past—we want to conjure a steamy future. All of your other songs are cliché." Sho threw his hands out in objection.

"Cliché?! Have you even _seen_ our ratings?" he ranted.

"We aren't trying to win the mindless masses, Sho," Koga chided. "We're trying to win Mogami Kyoko. Call off your driver." Sho furrowed his brows, not following. Koga pointed at the Escalade that had just pulled up to the curb. "Call him off. You aren't going home tonight."

Sho stood, stuttering objections.

"We've got a song to write, don't we?" Koga simply said, walking towards his car. "And clearly, you need someone more experienced to assist you." He opened the door and climbed in, not looking to see if Sho followed.

Sho stood still, mouth gaping. He craned his neck in astonishment. He felt like a ping-pong ball. But something inside whispered that writing a song with this man could just possibly produce something magic. He bit his lip and texted to dismiss his driver, running to catch up with Koga and hop inside.

"Chocolate," Sho said as he climbed in next to Koga.

Koga scoffed. "I'm not going to bribe you with treats. What are you, five?"

"No, the theme of the song," Sho said. "It's got to be chocolate."

Koga turned to look at him. "Interesting..." he said.

Sho's mind whirred with ideas the rest of the ride to Koga's place. He only dimly observed their surroundings as they arrived, so caught up was he in the flow of ideas. A large condo building off the main drag in Omotesando. Lush tropical plants in the lobby. Wood walls in the elevator. 11th floor. Koga's door.

Sho wandered inside after Koga, mind ablaze with creativity. He looked around and headed straight to the kitchen to sit at the breakfast bar on the high stools. Koga wordlessly placed a pen and a pad of paper in front of him before leaving again. Sho started to scribble.

Koga returned and sat a bowl down next to Sho's free hand. He picked out a piece and unwrapped it, holding it out in front of Sho's face. Sho paused in his scribbles as the dark chocolate hovered in his peripheral vision. He reached to pluck it from Koga's hand but was stopped. Koga held Sho's hand down.

"You're writing a passionate love song. Here's your chocolate. Eat it like a lover would. Fill yourself with the aphrodisiacs," Koga murmured.

Sho looked up at him through his bangs. "But you're a dude—" he started.

"It's just fingers," Koga interrupted. "Don't think of them as mine. Lose yourself. Trust me. It will help the passion fill your song."

Sho swallowed as Koga's words sank in. _Trust me_. He licked his lips. Like a lover... "How does a lover even...?" Sho questioned, his innocence showing. His only experience actively trying to seduce a woman had been that epic fail with Kyoko and chocolate. All the other women had literally just fallen into his bed no matter how he acted. He looked askance at Koga. Maybe this guy was right and he did need help.

Koga pursed his lips. "Hmm," he said. He placed the chocolate in Sho's hand and sat on the stool next to him. Sho looked curiously at the chocolate and started to bring it to his own mouth, thinking Koga had abandoned the ploy. But then Koga's hand snaked out and caught Sho's wrist, stopping its advance and pulling the chocolate towards his own mouth.

Koga paused when the chocolate— and Sho's fingers— were a mere fraction of an inch away from his lips. He had been staring intently at the chocolate the entire time, but now broke his gaze to stare directly at Sho. Not moving his eyes, Koga slowly opened his mouth. He licked his lips, leaving them wet and glistening. Sho felt his own mouth go dry. Koga let a small smile creep into the corners of his mouth. He kept his gaze locked on Sho as he slowly moved his mouth over the chocolate. His tongue flicked out once to take the tiniest of tastes and Sho heard himself gasp. He coughed to cover it up.

Koga opened his mouth slightly wider and slowly lowered his lips to take in the entire chocolate— then just a little farther, past the point where the chocolate alone could be the motive for the touch. Sho felt his lips close around his fingers, surrounding them in warmth and wet. He shivered involuntarily. Slowly, Koga pulled up. Bit by bit he moved back, drawing the chocolate with him.

Sho took a shuddering breath as he felt the chocolate finally leave his grip, though Koga's lips still remain gently clasped around his fingertips. What was this sorcery? Koga's tongue brushed the edge of his finger as Koga moved it to push the chocolate back into his cheek. Sho closed his eyes as Koga's tongue returned to his now-empty fingers, slowly licking around each to clean off all traces of chocolate. With a wet pop, Koga sucked off the tip of Sho's fingers and sat back.

He chewed and swallowed the chocolate as he looked at Sho. Sho's eyes were still closed, his hand held outstretched in the air, fingers shiny and wet from Koga's mouth. His breathing was fast and uneven. Koga watched fascinated as the young singer's pulse visibly hammered in his jugular vein. _Wonder what he would do if I kissed him there_ , he thought. Koga brushed the thought aside to speak one word before turning to sit in the living room. "Write."

Sho's eyes flew open. He took a shuddering breath but grabbed his pen and started furiously scribbling. This might be his best work yet.

Koga sat very still on the couch. His mouth was full of the bittersweet aftertaste of dark chocolate and skin. His hand fidgeted, accustomed to the routine of pulling out his phone in a spare moment to scroll and search. But not tonight.

Koga reached over to the side table, grabbing another piece of chocolate. He peeled back the wrapper strip by strip, slowly exposing the dark sheen. It was beautiful how such a simple action could become erotic in the right circumstances. Koga glanced at Sho without turning his head. The musician was lost to the world right now, head bent over the paper as his hand furiously scrawled chords and words in time with his heartbeat. Koga held his bare chocolate up to the light, thinking. He let it roll through his fingers. What if Sho had taken him up on his first request? Would he have been as moved as the young man was? The hammering pulse, closed eyes, and shaky breath gave Fuwa away. Koga was curious.

He held the chocolate up to his own mouth and traced his tongue in circles around the smooth surface, letting his mouth slowly warm the surface. The sweetness increased minutely with each swirl. _Would Fuwa's tongue feel the same?_ he wondered. He closed his eyes as he covered the chocolate with his mouth and bit down, breaking off the end. A visual shot through his mind of Fuwa doing the same thing, but to his neck. Koga stretched his neck to the side, letting his imagination wander.

Fuwa's tongue licked back over the bite mark, leaving a hot trail in its wake. Koga remained still, waiting, letting himself feel. Letting the younger man lead. Fuwa braced himself against the couch, breathing heavily as he stood over Koga. First chocolate, now this. He must be drunk. Fuwa growled. Drunk or not, he wanted more. He swooped down and kissed Koga angrily, sucking and biting at his lips as he wrestled with his own emotions. He was fighting with himself. Part of him wanted to stop—the other part had never felt more need in his life. Koga remained still, waiting. Fuwa licked his tongue across Koga's lips as he kissed him and Koga finally let himself react, opening his lips and flicking his own tongue out to meet Fuwa's. The brief contact of searing heat and muscle made Fuwa shiver and moan. Koga felt his reaction deep in his core and let himself loose.

He reached out and grabbed Sho by the back of the head, wrapping his fingers into his hair and pulling, grinding Sho against himself. Their kiss became a battle, lips and tongues wrestling for dominance as each man felt himself losing control. Koga suddenly twisted his arm, jerking Sho's head to the right and burying his mouth in the singer's neck. He sucked, rolling his tongue across sensitive flesh, using one hand to hold Sho still and the other to explore his chest. Sho pushed back against Koga, his muscles tense as he held himself taunt against Koga's hand.

Slim but firm, well-developed muscles flexed as Koga ran his fingers down Sho's torso. Koga could feel Sho's entire body shaking with emotion as he held him and pure need surged through him in response. He had to know what this man tasted like. He sucked and nipped at his neck, marking him in spot after spot as he traced his way down to Sho's shoulder, his collarbone, his upper chest. He released his grip on Sho's hair and pulled his hips tight against his own crotch. Sho was straddling him on the couch now, their centers grinding together as Koga pulled his lips back long enough to rip Sho's shirt off over his head. He held Sho away from him and dove down to feast on his nipples. Sho gasped and threw his head back, his hands gripping Koga's shoulders. He was alive with sensation. The searing warmth of Koga's mouth closed over his nipple warred with the chill air of the room. Strong, broad hands gripped his waist. A throbbing spread out from his center as he rubbed against something else hard, and hot, and strong. Sho felt like he was about to faint. He moaned, kneading his fingers into Koga's flesh.

"Koga…" he whispered. "What…"

"Shhh," Koga quieted him. His mouth never left Sho's nipple and the cool exhale of air from his admonition caused Sho to flinch as his nipple hardened. Koga grinned and nipped at the bud, making him gasp. Koga wrapped one arm around his hips, holding him tight against him, while the other reached up and gently raked his fingernails down Sho's back, unleashing a storm of shivers from him as his nerves tingled. Each shiver caused his hardness to rub against Koga, deepening the spell. Sho felt his face flamed with heat. His breathing was shaky. He didn't know what to do next, where to put his hands, what to feel. Koga was completely in control.

His hand had criss-crossed Sho's back and found its way to his belt-line. Inch by inch he moved his hand from back to front, mimicking the movement with a slowly rising trail of kisses up from Sho's nipple to his ear. Koga attacked Sho's lobe with his mouth just as he found the front buckle and started to undo it. Sho balked, feeling the movement, but when Koga ground up against him in response Sho lost. He wanted to feel this. He wanted to know.

"Good…" Sho muttered, moving his hips on top of Koga. Koga smiled, understanding what he meant but wanting to tease his partner. He nipped at his ear lobe, running his tongue over the soft sensitive spot beneath.

"…what is?" he whispered. "This?" he asked, sucking on Sho's upper neck. "Or… this?" he questioned as he let his hand slip inside Sho's now-undone pants, cupping his pinned erection. Sho's eyes shot open and he stared at Koga. He released Sho's neck and met his stare, closing his hand more firmly around Sho and starting to stroke him slowly as he smiled. Sho's eyes fluttered, rolling back slightly. "Ah," Koga said softly. "Both…" He increased the speed of his hand and leaned forward to capture the singer's mouth. Sho moaned into Koga's kiss, his hips starting to buck against his hand. Koga stroked faster as Sho's breathing increased. Not breaking their deep, wet kiss, Koga paused his strokes to pull Sho's erection out of his pants. He pulled back from the kiss to wet his hand with his own tongue before he wrapped his fingers around Sho even as he wrapped his tongue back around Sho's tongue. Sho's hips jerked, the movement rubbing against Koga's own need. Koga felt his heart rate rising as the young musician lost control, pulsing his hips against Koga's hand and against his throbbing erection beneath. He sucked harder at Sho's lips, wanting to consume him, wanting to mark him, to fill him, to know him. Sho gasped as Koga bit down on his bottom lip and cried out, his hips pushing forward as Koga's hand brought him to release. He collapsed against Koga, panting, his half-naked body draped over his sempai.

"Koga…" Sho murmured, the name falling off his lips like a charm. Koga wrapped his arms around him. "Koga," Sho repeated. "Koga!"

"Eh?" Koga blinked.

Sho was staring at him from across the room. "I'm done with the song. Why do you look like someone just stole your ice cream?"

Koga simply replied, "Chocolate," and wrapped a long, loose blanket around his shoulders before standing to go see what his singer had written.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOGAAAAAAAAA what have I done. ermahwerd. Can't wait to read Sho's lyrics.


	38. Chocolate

_ Chocolate _

Sho threw his pen down. He was done. The words were fire and ice, a declaration of mutual longing and consummation. It was by far his best work yet. He grabbed another piece of chocolate and popped it in his mouth, the smooth candy slowly melting on his tongue. He reread the lyrics, looking for needed edits. He couldn't find any. He smirked. This was gonna work.

He turned to look for Koga. The actor was sitting on the couch, just staring at the wall. Sho cocked his eyebrow. "Koga," he called. Koga didn't move. Sho got a little weirded out and stood, peering at the other man. "Koga," he said again. Koga still didn't move. Sho pursed his lips and turned to grab his sheet of lyrics. "Koga!" he yelled, rustling the paper in the air.

Koga blinked. "Eh?" His face looked lost for a moment, like he'd had something precious taken from him.

"I'm done with the song," _you freak_ , Sho continued in his mind. "Why do you look like someone just stole your ice cream?"

Koga grabbed a big, white blanket from off the back of the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders before standing. "Chocolate," he simply said, walking over to Sho.

"I finished it already," Sho said. "Chocolate." Koga looked at the nearly full bowl of chocolate and back at Sho, a question in his eyes. Sho rolled his own eyes. "The song. That's the title."

Koga nodded and reached his hand out from under the blanket. Sho gave him the lyrics. Koga read over them, a smile slowly growing as he finished.

"This will work," he said calmly. He handed Sho back the lyrics and padded over to the laptop on the dining room table. "Time to work out the logistics." Koga typed out a quick email to Fuwa's manager, having Sho send it from his personal email.

_Shoko – proposition for new MV. Switch to beachside setting. Maybe Jodogahama if you can get a private stretch. Plot is lovers meeting in secret. Get Mogami Kyoko—her character in Prisoner was lit. Can do promo for Lotus. Don't say I request. May have said shit about Lory. – Fuwa Sho_

Koga closed the laptop, satisfied. "Send her your lyrics in the morning," he said. Sho nodded, standing by the table. Koga looked up at him. "Well?"

"Well what?" Sho bit back.

"Go home," Koga said flatly. Sho stared at him. "What? Your song is done. You want to stay for a midnight snack or something? Go home."

Sho shook his head. He must be tired. Why was he even still here? "Yeah, yeah, as if I'd stay here longer than I had to anyways, jerkoff," he muttered. He turned and headed for the door, slipping on his shoes and leaving without another word. Koga stared at the closed door. _Jerkoff_ , he thought. _Speak for yourself._

This was definitely going to work. Koga folded his hands on top the laptop. And when Mogami Kyoko fell for Fuwa, he would be the perfect person to swoop in and help Tsuruga Ren pick up the pieces of his broken life. Koga lay his head down on his hands, looking at the door where Fuwa had just left. If only he could trust the kid to actually do the job properly.

Kyoko rubbed her fingers together nervously. To text or to call. Or she could always just hunt her down in person. No, no, there were only 30 minutes left til her next scene was scheduled to start. _Stay put, Mogami_ , she chastised herself. _Buuuuuut!_ she whined inside. Her very best friend in the whole world had a BOYFRIEND and Kyoko DIDN'T HAVE THE SCOOP YET. This is what best friends forever did, they confided? And pried! And talked! About guys! Kyoko grabbed her phone and whipped it open but froze before she could type.

But Mookoooooooooo hadn't told her! Should she pry? Was it okay? She knew she knew now, she would expect it. Kyoko would be a very bad friend indeed if she knew she knew she knew and still didn't pry, right? But this was Moko and Moko was fierce. "Oooooooh!" Kyoko's angst burst into verbal form. She couldn't take it anymore. Her fingers flew across the buttons and shot a text to Kanae before she could think herself into circles again.

Kyoko: TELL ME EVERYTHING.

Moko: That's too many things. Buy an encyclopedia for yourself.

K: YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

M: Nope.

K: YASHINAE! (followed by many, many starry eyed emojis)

M: OMG WHAT IS THAT

K: YOU

M: MO NO

K: TELL ME OR ITS YOU

M: MO

K: YASHINAE

M: Fine

K: (an entire paragraph of alternating heart and starry eyed emojis)

M: We started dating a week ago.

Kyoko danced, holding her phone in the air. A week! A week of YashiNae in the world! She waited, eager for more details. Her phone refused to ping again. She shook it. Nothing. She restarted it, opening her texts. Nothing.

K: YASHINAE

M: Mo! I told you!

K: NOT ENOUGH.

M: What are you, some freakish fangirl?! No!

K: YES. EXACTLY. TOTAL FANGIRL. NOW SPILL.

M: Mo!

A pause again, and Kyoko almost started to resume her threats before she noticed the three little dancing dots of joy that meant her best friend was typing. And stopping typing. No, typing again. Kyoko thought her heart was going to burst at the suspense! When would the dots stop and the details appear! Would Moko follow through or would the dots disappear forever? WHAT WILL BECOME OF THE DOTS! Kyoko felt her fingers tingling in pure anticipation as she stared at her phone.

M: …

M: He's very nice. We talk daily. He likes French food. But he likes hamburgers more. I don't know, Kyoko, what do you want me to say? Mo, this is so weird.

K: The underwear.

Kyoko freaked out. _I can't believe I just sent that_! She felt like her brain was melting. But her best friend's underwear had definitely been on Yukihito's couch and Kyoko NEEDED TO KNOW. A long, long pause ensued before the blessed dots reappeared.

M: When two adults are attracted to one another, it's natural to express that attraction in physical ways. Sometimes it escalates and the two people enjoy parts of the other person that only belong to their special someone. It's called birds and bees.

Kanae felt like her face was on fire. She sent the message before she could delete everything.

Kyoko's eyes bugged out as she read. She was officially getting the sex talk over text from her best friend. She'd known about the relations between a man and a woman since she was younger – working in a hotel meant overhearing certain intimate moments of guests whether you sought it out or not – but never, ever had someone cared enough to actually try and explain it to her. She giggled in glee.

M: Mo, if you don't understand from that I'm going to kill you.

K: How did you know it was okay?

M: You don't. I mean, I trust Yukihito. I want to be with him long-term. I know he respects me and cherishes me. But I can't know for certain that everything will always work out between us. I just know how he makes me feel. Being with Yukihito fulfills me in many ways. He's my match in intellect – did you know he has Ren's entire schedule completely memorized for the next sixth months? Even all the potential alterations!

K: That's amazing.

M: He challenges me and pushes me to move beyond my comfort zones. He helps me with difficult characters and takes me to new places. And beyond all of that, he wants me. As I am. That's important.

Kyoko sat and stared at her friend's messages. She'd never heard (read?) Kanae being this vulnerable before. Was it really from trusting in Yukihito? Was he really influencing her and helping her grow? Kyoko smiled at the thought of her friend finding such joy.

K: I'm scared.

She texted without thinking too much. She just knew that letting Ren have her, all of her, scared her witless.

M: It's hard to let go. You'll know when it's right. And you don't have to do anything you don't want to. But if you want to… I know Ren will cherish you with his entire being.

Kyoko smiled softly at her phone.

K: …Mokoooooo.

M: Mo, hush. Go to work.

Kyoko nodded and closed her phone. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes glowed softly beneath the dark bangs of Momiji. She had a lot to think about.


	39. Know Your Power

Know Your Power

Producer Kuresaki looked at the assembled actors with a bored frown. Or was it an expectant frown? Regardless, a frown. He finished his admonitions and directives for the day in a dry voice, then called Kyoko over.

"I should not need to tell you the importance of this scene," he said in a low tone. Kyoko nodded. The scene was a pivotal moment in Shizuma's story, where he awakens to seeing Momiji as a woman for the first time. It precipitates a crisis in his relationship with Chidori when his behaviors change around Momiji and Chidori becomes desperately suspicious of the pair. He looked her over once and seemed to accept his conclusion, turning to seat himself next to Director Morizumi behind the main camera.

Kyoko swallowed nervously. Momiji had a delicate line to take here. The scene was almost completely silent; Shizuma's revelation came not through words but through pure body language. She glanced down at her shapeless body. _This_ , she thought rather hopelessly, _needs to convince that_ – looking at Koga – _that is it an object of desire._ Kyoko blew out her intake of breath slowly. "Here we go," she muttered.

Momiji squatted with her arms braced against the inside of her legs in front of the fire. She watched Shizuma in her peripheral vision as he readied his bedroll. The slightest of emotions crossed her face. Regret, perhaps? It was difficult to identify. She sniffed and shifted her weight. Strictly controlling her features once more, she stood and walked over to him.

"CUT." Kuresaki's quiet voice sliced through the near-silent room. Kyoko froze and turned in surprise. _Already?_

"Again," he said. "Better." Kyoko bowed slightly in apology and the actors took their places once more.

Momiji squatted with her arms braced against the inside of her legs in front of the fire. She turned her head slightly towards Shizuma, letting her eyes rest on him as he readied his bedroll. A flicker of regret crossed her face; a delicate sadness drawing down the edges of her mouth.

"CUT."

Kyoko sat suddenly. A second NG in less than thirty seconds of tape. She stood and bowed deeply at the Producer, Director, and Koga.

"Again."

Momiji squatted with her arms braced against the inside of her legs in front of the fire. She cocked her head when she heard Shizuma unpack his bedroll, standing to turn and look at him. As she watched him silently prepare, her eyes grew sad and thoughtful.

"CUT! Mogami-san, here." Morizumi demanded. Kyoko hastily bowed in apology at Koga and ran over to the Director. Producer Kuresaki merely watched her silently.

"Director-sama, I am so sorry—" she began, already bent in half at the waist.

"Stop. This is the problem," Morizumi said, his brow furrowed. "Your eyes. Regret. Sorrow. Sadness. Is that how a woman truly looks at the man she loves when they are alone? Is that how a woman begins the process of showing herself as desirable to him? No!" he said emphatically. "That is how a woman becomes an object of pity!"

Kyoko involuntarily stepped backwards.

"Prove to us that you understand more than the sorrow of love, Mogami-san," Morizumi said. "Five-minute break." Morizumi clapped his hands and ordered a general break. The crew burst into conversation and calm action as people bustled to and fro to gather drinks and snacks, tidy the set, or simply settle into their chairs for a chat. Kyoko's mind hummed. Did she know more than the sorrow of love? Her past clawed its way through her subconscious, reminding her of the trap she'd fallen into with Shotaro. Betrayal and convenience and invisibility. Regret.

 _But with Ren!_ she fought back at the memories that threatened to bury her. Ren was different. Soft, caring, understanding. All the things Sho had never been.

_But am I different? Or am I stuck in a cycle of regret and mistrust? Do I even know how to love without fear?_

Kyoko looked anxiously around her at the set. Everyone was engaged with someone or something. Everyone except Koga. She worried at her lower lip. Could she really impose on her sempai again? He'd been quick to discern and point out potential pitfalls for her and Ren—thanks to him, they'd had a proper conversation and had new understanding of one another. Kyoko smiled at Koga. Maybe he could help her after all. She grabbed an iced coffee and a plate of fruit and ran over to Hirohume.

Koga sat blissfully alone on the stone prop, imagining a certain tall actor wearing samurai robes. He'd auditioned for the part, hadn't he? Koga sniffed the sleeve. Maybe he had even worn this robe. He scoffed at himself. Tsuruga Ren was at least six inches taller, the freak of nature. This robe wouldn't have fit him. _Unless they altered it afterwards_ , he thought, fingering the center fold.

Golden eyes in a small, beaming face snapped into his field of vision as an unwanted iced coffee and fruit tray were thrust towards him.

"Sempai! I come to beg assistance!" she said, a joyful but pleading look plastered on her face. Koga's face dropped into a displeased grimace. He looked at her beneath heavy-lidded eyes, turning to scratch his neck.

"No. If I help you and you still fail, the blame will shift to me," he said bluntly.

"But sempai! It's a very simple question. I won't tell you helped me—just pretend we are talking about the fruit," she suggested. He considered her ploy carefully. "It will help," she continued, "if you actually take the fruit from me."

Koga rolled his eyes and took the fruit plate, carefully selecting a raspberry from the giant pile. Looking at the berry instead of at Kyoko, he simply said, "You have no idea what turns a man on, do you? Do you think sadness is attractive? Regret feminine? Hesitation and uncertainty appealing?" He frowned at the berry. "I do not understand what on earth that man sees in you."

Kyoko's shoulders sank with each of his pronouncements until she was folded almost in half like a little hunchback. Koga notice and tsk'ed her – "Stand up straight immediately. They'll think I'm bullying you," he whispered harshly. Kyoko sprang to attention, arms snapped at her side. Koga sighed in exasperation. "Oh, yes, much better," he said sarcastically. "We definitely look like we're having a normal conversation now."

Kyoko bit her lip and tried to stand normally but ended up just looking slightly lame in one leg. "This! This!" Koga said, unable to contain himself. "This is the problem! If you're going to be an actress, be an _actress_. Know your own power, for godssake, and stop mooning all over people to get their pity and help."

Kyoko's mouth dropped. "Mooning?" she echoed. "To get pity? I—" but Koga cut her off by shoving the fruit tray at her.

"Done. Return it for me," he said, turning to sit with his back facing her. Kyoko sighed, staring at the fruit. She looked around. There was no one else. Slowly, she turned to make her way back to the concessions table and deposit his uneaten fruit. She let his words replay in her mind as she walked.

_If you're going to be an actress, be an actress. Know your own power…_

Kyoko's head snapped up, a sudden connection whirring in her head. The most powerful actor she knew, without a doubt, was Tsuruga Ren. How would he play this role? How would he use body language alone to captivate another person? She closed her eyes to think and found her mind filled with the image of the Emperor.

_Oh…_

Kyoko opened her eyes. Could Momiji do it? Could she find an Empress within? More importantly—could Kyoko? She thrust the fruit plate and untouched coffee at a passing crew member and sat down on the ground in the middle of the set to close her eyes and think, drawing in deep breaths one after another.

"Places, people," the director's assistant called. Momiji slowly opened her eyes, a new fire burning dimly within. She stood in one fluid movement and crossed to lower herself down by the fire.

"Action," Morizumi said, his voice calm as he watched Kyoko settle herself.

Momiji's eyes were trained on the fire, her arms resting on her knees with hands dangling loosely in front as she squatted in front of the flames. Behind her, Shizuma unpacked his bedroll for the night. Momiji never turned, but the way her head cocked slightly towards each sound he made proved beyond a doubt her intense awareness of his movements. She looked up from the fire and scanned the woods. They were alone.

Momiji held her hands up in front of herself, lowering her head to rest on top of her now-clasped fingers. Slowly she drew her hand through and around the other. She was deep in thought, her lips parted slightly. The ninja turned her head a fraction as Shizuma knelt to arrange his belongings. An emotion flickered in her eyes, drawing them closed slightly more. She had made her decision.

Momiji stood in one lithe movement. She turned to face Shizuma, the darkness shrouding her face as she turned away from the fire. She slowly walked over to his side, her silent footsteps hiding her approach until she was close. Shizuma looked up at her and smiled gently, his features arrayed in the complete trust a man shows his best friend. Without speaking he gestured with his head at the horse where her belongings still hung. He lay down on his bedroll, resting his head on his arms.

Momiji stepped around him and took out a soft bristle brush from her belongings. She walked back around and sat in between Shizuma and the fire, choosing to sit just within the reach of his arm should he stretch out.

Slowly, her eyes trained on the fire, Momiji pulled her hair out of its band. She let her hands flow through it as it fell down to cover her back. Raising one hand, she began to brush the long dark locks, brushing out the dirt and tangles from their journey. After enough time had passed for Shizuma to plausibly be asleep, giving her an excuse for her next action, Momiji stood again. She heard him move in response and knew he was still awake and watching. He had always loved it when she brushed her hair. It used to embarrass her, making her hide when she groomed. But now – she wanted him to see. She was tired of hiding. Tired of running from her feelings.

Tired of seeing him run after another woman just because he didn't see her as anything more than a best friend.

Momiji pulled her wrist guards off, letting them fall by her side. Slowly, she pulled her gloves off, an inch at a time. She heard Shizuma move again behind her, a gentle rustle. She raised her hand and used the bristle brush to gently smooth all dirt off her arms, tracing their length repeatedly. Satisfied, she bent and started to rub her legs with long, sweeping strokes, working from her ankles higher and higher. She reached the fringe of her skirt and paused. Her eyes glinted in the firelight, determination and need filling them. Shizuma moved again, the sound filling her senses. He was watching her.

Slowly, she resumed her cleansing ritual. Soft, small, circles around her thighs. Lifting the fringe of her skirt. Flashes of secret flesh. Momiji let herself enjoy the feeling of the soft bristles tracing over her skin, relaxing her. She bent forward to lay the brush down and heard Shizuma quickly lay back, trying to disguise the fact that he wasn't asleep. She didn't turn or acknowledge she had heard him, _though_ , she thought, a small smile turning up the sides of her mouth, _if he really knows me then he already knows I'm aware he's not asleep._

She was too deep to stop. A part of her was screaming about duty and roles, but the fire burning in her, aching for him to see her as a woman – to force him to compare her to that cow Chidori – overwhelmed it. She untied her sword belt and slowly laid it on the ground. Slowly, buckle by buckle she undid her leather shirt. A low sigh rippled between her lips as it slid down her arms, her skin released from its grip. It really did feel good. All that remained covering her was her functional leather skirt and the binding around her breasts. She raised the bristle brush and started massaging her stomach and chest, rolling her neck in pleasure. The feeling of skin tight from sweat and dirt being exfoliated by the gentle bristles was exquisite. She'd never tried this fully exposed before; always hiding or under a blanket. Better yet, just don't wash. The night air was exhilarating.

Momiji brought the bristle brush around to rub her sides, her lower back, her—she grunted. Her arm wouldn't reach high enough. She reached over her shoulders but still couldn't extend far enough.

A warm hand clasped around hers, making her jump. She'd lost herself in the moment and didn't hear Shizuma rise. Her heart pounded in her chest as he stood still behind her. She could feel his breath on her neck, stirring her loose hair. He pulled the brush out of her hand without a word. Shaking slightly, she wrapped her hand around her hair and moved it over her shoulder, fully exposing her back. She heard his breath catch and then felt the brush gently touch the center of her back. He used long, excruciatingly slow sweeping movements from her shoulder down the center of her back. Once. Twice. Three times. He paused, and she turned her head slightly. He held the brush out to her above her shoulder. Eyes downcast, she took it from his hand. His hand lingered a moment too long on hers before he turned and walked back to his bedroll. Momiji pulled her shirt back on and looked at the fire as she ran her fingers over where their hands had touched, eyes determined.

"CUT. End scene," Morizumi said calmly. Producer Kuresaki simply nodded at Kyoko in acknowledgement before leaving set. Morizumi began addressing the next scene's set-up with his production team. Kyoko let out the breath she'd been holding, relieved. She'd done it! She turned to look exultantly at Koga, her arms raised in a sign of success. Koga was sitting up on the bedroll watching her, his lips tight. _Women,_ he thought. _As if simply undressing in front of someone was enough_.

He patted at the air to placate her. He had to admit, she had all the nuances down. The way she'd run her hands slowly up her thighs, the way she'd clearly enjoyed the feeling of the shirt slipping off, the small sighs at all the right times. She must have a full ream of experience to nail those so quickly. If _he_ had been standing there, slowly undressing, unaware he was being watched, showing obvious delight in the simple feeling of cleansing himself… Koga coughed and bowed his head, trying to hide the flush that had too-quickly risen to his cheeks. _It wasn't him—it was a skinny, overrated, annoying female!_ He ran his hands through his hair and stood. He needed to get in touch with Fuwa and make sure that twerp was following his instructions. Tsuruga needed to be free of this woman before she cast her spell on him.


	40. Tongues and Eggplants

Kyoko sat happily in her dressing room. Nothing gave her a high like nailing a difficult scene. This scene had pushed the boundaries of Momiji's character and her own personal experience. To think that she could successfully convey emotions like that! Desire and… and… Kyoko looked at herself in the mirror, her large golden eyes uneasy. And _seduction_. Her cheeks burned red-hot as she remembered standing in front of the camera in only her skirt and the binding. _Oooooooh_! she freaked mentally, slapping her cheeks with her eyes squeezed shut.

"Actor's rule of the heart! Actor's rule of the heart," she repeated. It would apply here too. It must. She'd followed the guidelines of decency for movies. It was just a scrub brush. Kyoko fidgeted nervously. But was it? Was it okay?

Ren would know. She grabbed her phone to send him a message.

She paused, thinking about the last time she'd seen him. Her heart melted, a _squeeeee_ rising up from her chest. She gripped the phone happily, spinning her chair around.

-K: Maybe we can have dinner together tonight?

Ren's phone pinged. He immediately checked it, hoping against hope it was from her. Her name showed across the screen and he beamed, pure joy radiating from his handsome features. He flipped open his phone and read her message. "Yes!" he shouted. He had been physically aching with need to see her today, to touch her and whisper to her – no, no, to have a normal, adult conversation about dreams and needs and desires and – no, about dreams and future and jobs and adult-things. But the last thing he wanted was for her to run away from him again, so he'd tried to give her space. He'd dropped a bomb on her last night. The "L-word" was definitely not in her comfort zone as #1 LoveMe Member. If she needed time to process, he could give it to her. "But she doesn't!" he whispered to himself.

-R: *tongue emoji* *eggplant emoji*

 _Oh god._ His fingers— he'd been too excited— hit the wrong emojis— he hurried to type a disclaimer but saw the ellipses indicating she had read it and was already replying. He quickly deleted his excuse and started an apology text instead.

Her reply came through and he froze.

—K: *heart-eyes emoji* *ok sign*

Did she...? She couldn't. But she did. _Oh my god she did?_ He raked his hand through his hair, feeling his insides churning in a weird blend of disbelief and anxiety and lust. What was happening? Did she just say ok to his accidental sext? Ren didn't know what to reply, his fingers hovering in indecision over the screen. Should he ask her directly and make sure? Should he just roll with it? He felt like he was about to burst with either questions or excitement, just standing here alone in the LME hallway.

-K: 6:30 ok for me to come over?

Ren's fingers flew. He'd figure it out later.

-R: Definitely.

He stared at the phone again, making sure he'd just read their conversation properly. He clicked the screen shut and speed-walked to his next meeting, his mind abuzz. _Should I get supplies for tonight? Where's the nearest drugstore from my afternoon shoot? Should I get food?_

Kyoko smiled at her phone. He was actually asking for FOOD! Granted, eggplant was a vegetable and not calorie-dense, but she could make something Italian-inspired with it. He liked tomato-based dishes, so perhaps eggplant parmesan? Did the tongue mean he was hungry? Or being silly and sticking out his tongue? She giggled, hiding her mouth behind her hand. The image of mature-looking Ren sticking his tongue out in playfulness was adorable. Maybe someday he'd do it while wearing puppy ears. She blushed. _Cuuuuuute_ , she squealed inside. Mentally, Kyoko added puppy ears to his Christmas list. Perhaps more a gift for her than him… but definitely needs to be on the list. She switched to her phone's web browser to look up recipes for eggplant parmesan, humming happily as she prepared for their evening together.

Sho was also staring at his phone as he sat in his recording studio in between sets. Shoko had gotten confirmation that afternoon that LME was preparing a contract for Mogami Kyoko to star in Sho's new MV. President Takarada had only negotitated a few extra clauses, such as switching the setting from a modern beach date to a secret meeting between the Momiji character and Sho. He wanted to use it as a promo clip for the new drama—a teaser to get the audience panting for Momiji's reveal as a feminine character. Shoko had readily agreed, wanting to see her charge dressed up in period costume. However, it wasn't her confirmation email that held his attention. He scrunched his face up in frustration. _This guy,_ he fumed, _thinking he can summon me at will._ He deleted the message chain and tossed his phone to the floor, resettling the guitar is his lap as he worked out the last few chords for _Chocolate_.

Koga was not used to being ignored. It had been over two hours since he sent that twerp of a singer his demand. He paced in the breakroom, his Shizuma robes flowing around him as he stalked back and forth. He checked his phone again, grumbling. How was he supposed to carry off this plan if the main tool was so unreliable? He needed confirmation that Lory had bit on the proposition. That Lovemon shouldn't have wavered on bit at the opportunity to throw Kyoko in the path of a potential love rival. He was so obsessed with those cheap dramas where the main leads went through almost innumerable cliché obstacles before finally communicating and revealing their love. A bikini-clad shoot with an old flame fit one of those clichés perfectly. _He had to bite,_ Koga knew. But fortunately, this was not a drama. This was real life. He grinned at himself. Women couldn't resist a charming man who knew his weaknesses and apologized humbly – especially not if said man was also well-built, rich, and half-naked. Throw into the mix that Fuwa had history with Mogami and it was a done deal.

 _As long as Tsuruga doesn't fall for her tricks first,_ he frowned. _And as long as that Fuwa kid can actually move past his idiotic self-absorption and woo her._ He unlocked his phone and called Fuwa Sho. This could not be left to chance.

Sho growled at his phone as it interrupted his chord progression. He would bet his last pick it was that guy. He hummed his lyrics as the phone rang, a satisfied smile on his face.

_Sweeter than need /_

_Spread all throughout me /_

_Your light is a fire in my veins /_

_Every reason to run /_

_Coming undone /_

_Feeling you is my craving – can't sustain_

The phone had long stopped ringing. Sho's foot tapped to the rhythm of his song as he leaned down and picked it up. He hit redial and called Koga.

"Hey," he said, simply.

Koga was silent on the other end, trying to decide whether to allow himself to be angry. He couldn't afford to push Fuwa away until he had clinched Mogami, and the young man was prickly. But he couldn't help the feeling of being intentionally provoked.

He settled for dismissive.

"Oh, it's you," he said in as bored a voice as he could muster.

Sho bristled, his hair spiking up slightly with his energy force. " _It's you?!_ Who's the one that's been bugging who, eh? Who's the one that keeps interrupting my busy day with texts and calls? Eh!?"

Koga sighed, looking at his fingernails. He liked how Fuwa was fairly predictable. It made him easier to control.

"Sure, sure," he said, placating. "Prove you don't need a babysitter and get the job done then." He cradled the phone against his neck, freeing his hands to make himself a coffee. "What's the status on the MV casting?" The coffee dripped hot and strong, filling the room with its bitter aroma. Koga picked up the cup gingerly, holding it out and far away from his costume robes.

"Are you making espresso again?" Sho asked, ignored Koga.

Koga felt his temple vein start to throb. _Immature. Ill-focused. Irresponsible._ "Yes," he said, gritting his teeth. "The MV?"

"Do you have a maker at your house?" Sho probed, continuing his train of thought.

Koga growled under his breath. The coffee cup was shaking slightly in his hand. He set it down to avoid any spills on his robes. " _Yes_ ," he worked out between his teeth.

"I'll tell you the details this afternoon. I'm off at 4. Make sure you have brown sugar in stock," Fuwa finished, laughing as he spoke. He hung up.

Koga stared at the wall in front of him. Slowly, his hand holding the phone lowered, clenched tightly around it. He stood still, his jaw firm and eyes tight. With a sudden burst of release he shouted and threw the phone at the wall, breaking the screen. He turned and stalked out of the room. Koga hated being told what to do. First Tsuruga Ren claiming his #1 spot and now this upstart forcing him to bend his schedule to his every immature espresso-sucking whim. Koga slammed the door shut behind him, his long sleeves filling the air with color as he spun. He paused, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. He imagined himself in a secluded forest glade, the smell of pine and earth rich in the air. Dust motes fluttered in the sunbeams, sparkling across his vision. He could feel the cool moss beneath his feet. There – across the small, sunlit pond, arm outstretched in greeting – _he_ waited.

Koga opened his eyes. He turned and calmly walked back into the break room and stooped to pick up his broken phone. He turned and gently picked up his coffee, taking a small sip as he gingerly texted his manager, careful not to scratch himself on the broken screen. He would need his evening schedule rearranged ASAP. And a new phone.

He threw away the now-empty espresso cup, sliding his phone into a concealed pocket in his robe. _Remember the goals_ , he said. _Use the tool._ Besides, currying this upstart's favor couldn't be bad for his own career either. A little more notoriety and excitement could come from appearing in public with the rising bad-boy of the rock scene. Koga smirked. _Chocolate._ _Let's see how useful you can be before I show you what it means to be thrown aside._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH dedicated to kaname672 because I react to almost every single discord msg of hers with an eggplant LOL #erosensei


	41. Aphrodite's Rivals

Aphrodite's Rivals

Ren paced back and forth in the aisle of the drugstore, an oversize sweatshirt on and a faded ball cap pulled low over his face. He still stood out enough that a pair of housewives openly tittered in argument over whether his "overbearing stature" meant he would be a "domineering husband" or a "gentle giant." They meandered through the aisle front of him and decided unanimously after a peek at his face that domineering was definitely closer to the mark, laughing with one another as they moved on to discussion marriage prospects for the first woman's single son. Ren was oblivious, the words "eggplant + tongue" repeating endlessly in his head, his mind spinning as he tried to decide whether or not to buy the box of condoms. If he did, and she didn't mean it, it wouldn't matter. Unless she found them and _really_ didn't mean it. He had some at his house, but it had been so long since his last serious relationship that they were all expired and needed to be thrown away.

But if he didn't, and she _did_ mean it…

He grabbed the box of condoms and walked swiftly over to the flower display case. A broad smile crept across his features as he examined the bouquets one by one. The second housewife noticed his new focus and nudged her friend, reopening her case for "gentle giant." Ren stood quietly tracing his fingers on the glass display case, wondering if Kyoko still remembered the Queen Rosa flower. _This time,_ he thought, _I would like to weave her a tale of joy, and not woe._ He brushed his fingers against the beautiful pink blooms of the peonies standing in water-filled buckets outside the case. _Aphrodite's rivals_ , he smiled, remembering the myths. He gathered an armful of the fluffy blooms. Their light smell filled the air as he settled their blooms into the crook of his arm, the box tucked underneath.

He blushed as the teenage cashier gave him the once-over for his obvious evening intentions as the two housewives filed in line comfortably behind him, continuing the all-important topic of comparing sons to other "domineering" men. _Flowers and condoms_ , Ren grimaced, _smooth._ He glanced back at the cashier who just stared at him and pointed at the total on the screen. Ren raised his arms in a shrug and the ladies' eyes went wide at the weird foreign gesture. He swiped his card to pay, grabbed his small bag and massive bouquet and fled.

Ren's apartment was dark when he arrived; he nudged the light switch with his elbow as he carefully cradled the flowers. He set the bag with the condoms down on the counter and reached up to the cabinet high over his sink to find a tall pitcher for the flowers. He really needed to get a vase. He settled the flowers inside. A crystal vase, formed in the shape of long, curved leaves, with pink veins all throughout, and a ring of ruby-inset peony flowers around the top would be perfect for her. He wished he had more time to shop today. He checked the time. An hour left.

Grabbing the bag from the counter, Ren took the box out and tucked it into his top dresser drawer. He pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the floor, followed by his pants and underwear. His long, muscled legs crossed the distance to the shower quickly. The water was cold when he first turned it on but he got in anyways, craving the sudden shock and clarity from a blast of cool. His skin prickled with goosebumps, the cold water running in rivulets down his bare skin. He turned and let it wash over his face, plastering his hair to his forehead. He ran his fingers up and through his bangs, holding them back as he waited for the cool water to clear his mind.

There was no way Kyoko was coming over for sex.

_Right?_

The cold water wasn't working completely—even the slightest chance she'd understood those emojis in their popular meaning was enough to keep him on edge all evening. The very thought of her coming over expectantly, wanting him, craving his touch… it was as if every drop of water in the shower became her breath, covering his skin with prickles of anticipation instead of cold. Ren shook his head violently. _There's no way!_ he reprimanded himself. _But just in case…_ Ren grabbed his shaving cream and a razor and decided to tidy up a certain area. _Might as well; personal grooming is always a good thing_ , he thought, trying to disguise his intentions even to himself. He started to carefully spread the cream when his attention focused on his only patch of remaining blonde hair.

"Shit," he said to the empty room. He tossed the razor into the corner of the shower and rinsed himself off hastily, hopping out of the cold shower and winding a towel around himself. He gritted his teeth at himself, frustration and sadness warring for control of his features. There was no way they could be intimate tonight; not even if Kyoko fully understood and accepted his mistyped proposition. Ren braced himself against his dresser, his head hanging low. She still didn't know. It was a miracle she hadn't found out that night in their hotel room. Ren grimaced. He'd wanted her for so long now. But he still wasn't sure exactly how she saw him. It hadn't been that long since she'd walked in on him completely naked in the shower and shown absolutely no reaction whatsoever. She'd responded to his kisses earlier this week, true, but she'd also run from him after one. Enjoying a kiss and wanting someone to be yours, body and soul—two very, very different things.

He threw his towel on the floor in a wad. He was a fool for thinking tonight would lead to intimacy. So many barriers and unknowns stood in their way. And the biggest one was within him: his true self. He looked up at himself in the mirror, eyes desperately searching for inner resolution. "You need to tell her," he whispered to himself. "And soon."

The doorbell rang. Ren stood bolt upright, then flew into motion. He called out, "Just a second!" and, leaving his towel where it lay, strode out to his room to throw on his briefs and some casual but fitted jeans with a loose white v-neck shirt. It would do.

He padded quickly across the living room and grabbed the door, swinging it in with one rapid motion. She filled his vision. Radiant, beaming, beautiful. _Oh, Kyoko,_ Ren whispered in his mind, _if anyone is actually a fairy in disguise, it's not me – it you._

"Hello," he simply said.

"Hi!" she returned, bouncing slightly on her heels. "I brought the supplies!" She held out two large brown bags at him, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

"S-s-supplies? This many?" Ren's imagination started to take flight and he coughed to snap himself out of it, ready to punch himself in the cohunes if needed to calm down. "Ah, I wanted to make sure you knew what I was talking about, it's not—"

Kyoko cut him off as she strode confidently past him and into the room. "No backing out now, mister! We've got plans!" Ren gulped and tried to beat down the excitement rising in him. He was incorrigible. _God, how I want her_. It didn't matter what his reason or experience told him—if there was the possibility, he would be hard-pressed to stop himself.

"I won't back out," he said softly, closing the door and turning to follow her into the kitchen, his eyes filled with longing. No matter the consequences. 

Unwittingly in sync with his former friend, Fuwa Sho also waited on a doorstep across town; with significantly less enthusiasm and bounce, however. He knocked impatiently. No one kept Fuwa Sho waiting—especially not when he was here as merely a _favor_.

"Hey, dick, what's your problem? Stuck on the can?" he called loud enough for the neighbors to hear, being obnoxious on purpose. Riling up Koga was his current favorite pastime. He wasn't sure how it began, but he was starting to figure out the actor's hot buttons and his reactions were so genuine it was beyond entertaining. Public opinion was one of them— _no way this guy wants his neighbors even imagining he ever shits_. Sho laughed at his own genius.

Koga stalked over to the door and ripped it open to see the source of his annoyance leaning nonchalantly against the door frame. Fuwa wore a crimson shirt draped loosely over his torso, the top cut low in the center to reveal smooth chest muscles. A chain-link wolf necklace with two rubies for eyes lay nestled in the center of exposed skin. Koga wondered for a moment whether it was warm from body heat or remained cool because of its larger size. Sho smirked, standing and pulling a small packet of brown sugar out of the back pocket of his tight black jeans. He held it out to Koga. Koga took it between his thumb and forefinger like it was dirty and turned and walked inside.

"I told you I would have some," he said without any emotion betrayed, walking over to his kitchen.

"Ah, nope," Sho corrected as he waltzed into Koga's house for the second time. He looked around and decided on claiming the couch, plopping his long (but not long enough in comparison) body down on the surprisingly soft cushions. "You just made a very unpleasant teeth grinding sound." Sho paused, listening. "YES!" he laughed uproariously, throwing his head back and drawing his feet up to rest his combat boots on the arm of the sofa. "That exact sound," he finished.

Koga rubbed his temples with his forefingers and turned to make the twerp a cup of espresso. _Give him the coffee, and you'll get your information. I can throw him out on his ass after that. Just get the coffee._

"So," he said, as he stirred the small packet of brown sugar into Fuwa's drink. "The MV."

"Yeah?" Fuwa asked, unwilling to give up anything Koga wanted without a fight. Koga's jaw was twitching now and the way it clenched and made his jawline change was fascinating. Sho wanted to find as many different ticks as he could. He shifted, plunking his feet back down onto the ground in front of him to sit upright and watch Koga.

"Is. It. Scheduled."

"Ah, yeah, sure," Fuwa threw out casually, not committing to anything. He slumped back into the couch, his legs spread wide in total indolence. "Where's my coffee?"

Koga braced himself and took a deep breath before he picked up the small cup and walked over to Fuwa. He leaned forward slightly, over Fuwa, to place it on the side table. Quietly, leaning in close, Koga asked, the syllable dangerously clipped: "When."

Fuwa just laughed and said, "That may cost you another coffee."

Koga snapped. He grabbed Fuwa by the shoulders, one hand holding him on his right shoulder near the crux of neck and collarbone and the other gripping his upper bicep.

"Hey," Fuwa cried out, still calm but uneasy. "Chill, man."

Koga gripped Fuwa's arm tighter. He rubbed his thumb in a circle over his skin, trying to keep his arm from pulling back and punching Fuwa in the face. Instead, he leaned in, his face close to Sho's. He steadied himself, breathing purposefully and slowly. Sho could feel the exhale of each breath fluttering across his cheek as Koga leaned in above him. His heart beat was slowly accelerating, responding involuntarily to the other man's proximity. Sho didn't like being pinned. He tried to shake Koga off with a twist and shove of his shoulders, but the movement only made Koga bear down harder and draw closer.

" _When,_ " Koga whispered, so close that Sho had no problem hearing the softly spoken syllable.

"Two… weeks…" Sho squeaked out, his words slightly breathless. He was having a hard time keeping his breathing steady under Koga's influence. Koga smiled, having noticed each small change in the young man. _Interesting,_ he thought. Physical proximity made Sho more pliable and meek. Koga would have to test this theory next time the singer started to get ideas. For now, he slowly pulled back. As he stood he allowed his weight to rest on his right knee, drawn up and placed on the sofa in between Fuwa's outstretched legs, slowly working his weight-bearing knee closer to the junction of Fuwa's legs. Fuwa swallowed hard. "Filming s-starts the last weekend of this month," he said hurriedly.

Koga stood up completely and stepped back from Fuwa. "Well done," he said, handing Fuwa his small cup of coffee without another word. His first experiment had proven successful. Fuwa Sho could be easily controlled with the proper amount of physical "pressure." Yes, working with him was going to be very fun indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch dedicated to enolasia/sloth - congrats on finishing your exams!


	42. Hot Fudge Chickens

Kyoko was filled with excitement as she bustled into Ren's kitchen. One of the simplest joys in life was cooking food for others. Ever since learning knife skills and tea serving skills as a young girl at the ryokan she'd realized the purity of emotion in providing something to satisfy another's hunger. And tonight, she was not only satisfying someone's hunger, but – she turned and looked over her shoulder at him – her special person's hunger. Kyoko felt a thrill run through her body. She loved cooking for Ren. He had an odd look on his face as he watched her, caught somewhere between frustration and excitement. Kyoko wanted to show him the best part first, so she dug around in her bag.

"Ta-da!" she cried, holding up whipped cream and fudge sauce. Ren went bright red and froze in place, his eyes fixated on the toppings she'd chosen. He licked his lips.

"Whipped cream and chocolate…?" he said hoarsely. He felt blood rushing to his center and strode quickly over to the countertop to hide his lower half behind it. "For…"

Kyoko just smiled up at him, shaking her head. She was thrilled that he was so interested in the ice cream toppings – she LOVED a good sundae, covered in ooey gooey over-the-top goodness, but she hadn't been sure whether he would indulge willingly or not. She didn't want to spoil the surprise of dessert, though, so she simply answered, "For later."

Ren's eyes flashed. He stepped around the counter to draw near to her, uncaring whether she noticed his arousal or not. "For later…" he murmured, "but what if we want to start with dessert?"

Kyoko looked up at him in alarm, startled by the sudden change in his tone of voice. He almost purred at her now, his voice deep and rich. _Uh-oh_ , she thought, _why is HE here?_

The Emperor of the Night loomed over her, his eyes dark with lust. He leaned forward, his mouth slightly parted as if he was planning the best place to start devouring her. Kyoko felt her chest heaving with each breath as he drew nearer to her. She was fixed to the spot like a deer caught in the headlights.

"S-s-s-sure," she stammered out, her eyes glued to his but her hand fumbling on the counter, blindly looking for the rest of dessert. "If that's what—what you—you—what you want." Emergency bells sounded in her head as her inner Kyokos registered the sheer volume of pheromones exuding from the Emperor. Half of the spirits were floating around naked, their demon garb stripped from them as they lazily and happily surrendered to his force. Another third braced themselves in full Riot Gear, forked tails poking out from underneath their armor as they tried to shield her inner mind from his penetration. The final, smallest segment had grown tiny wings and lost their tails. These stood firm and steady against a door labeled "Desire," tall golden shields held out in front.

"Oh," Ren murmured, "it is." He slowly drew one hand up to wind a strand of her hair around her finger. Less than a foot remained between the pair. Kyoko had mere seconds to act before she was officially lost to the Emperor.

"OK!" she yelled, throwing herself away from him at the grocery bags. "Then ice cream! Ice cream ahhhh! ICE CREAM!" She frantically dug through the bags. If she shoved frozen sugar in his face, maybe he would snap back. _Please snap back! I can't handle this! Please snap back!_

Ren stopped, blinking in confusion.

"Ice cream…?" he questioned.

"YES!" Kyoko said, still yelling. She'd gotten the carton of chocolate ice cream out and turned to run for the cabinets. "Sundaes! It was supposed to be for after dinner, since you wanted eggplant, and that's good, it's so healthy, but I thought it would be fun to have something special too, and it was ok since dinner is so light, and I did bring cheese for eggplant parmesan because you like Italian dishes, but if that's too much dairy I can make a simple stir fry and—"

Ren collapsed against the counter. _Eggplant parmesan. Ice cream sundaes. Eggplant. Tongue._ "Food," he said. "You thought I meant food."

Kyoko paused in her rambling to look at him. She could tell by his strange sunken posture she was safe (for now) from the Emperor. She definitely needed to figure out the triggers that brought on his appearance. It was too dangerous to walk blindly into conversations with this man, especially when alone! "Yes, of course," she said, her inflection laden with curiosity. "What else could you mean?"

Ren dropped his face into his palm. "Nothing. Nothing at all," he mumbled to himself. The crazy ups and downs of the last several hours were enough to TKO him for sure. "Thank god I didn't shave," he said to himself.

"Hmm?" Kyoko asked, starting to scoop out ice cream.

"Nothing," Ren said, standing. "Nothing at all. Shall we watch something while we… eat?" She nodded and Ren walked over to her side. He smiled down at her. While part of him desperately craved to find a way to live out his original fantasies for tonight, the sane part knew that what they had was perfect for now. She was too precious a treasure to rush. _Lord willing,_ he said, watching her and listening to her sweet hum as she filled their bowls with heaping servings of ice cream and toppings, _I will have a lifetime to unravel her. Slowly, delicately, with all the love in the world_. He placed his over top of hers, circling the bowl. She looked up at him and met his eyes with a radiant smile.

"Is that enough fudge?" she said innocently. Ren's eyes went wide at the sheer volume of chocolate smothering his ice cream and nodded mutely. She slid her hand out from beneath his with a nod and grabbed her own bowl, turning towards the living room. "Watching something sounds nice! You pick." He followed after her, holding his own bowl like it was some kind of nuclear experiment. He didn't _really_ have to eat this, did he? And dinner afterwards? He gulped, trying to swallow down his fears. He'd gotten himself into this situation, though, so it was only fair he indulged her.

The pair sat side-by-side on the small couch. Ren sat his bowl in his lap and busied himself flipping through channels while Kyoko dug in to her dessert. Occasionally she would moan with delight as an especially rich bite of chocolate or cream melted in her mouth. She'd always look up at him, wanting to share the moment. Their eyes connected and he beamed down at her, trying to enjoy his own miniscule spoonfuls. Watching her enjoy her dessert was more than enough to satisfy him.

The TV clicked to a replay of _Yappa Kimugure Rock_ and he paused in his channel surfing. "How about this?" he offered. He wasn't sure what her taste in talk shows was, but he needed something light hearted and with zero chance of a romantic scene to let his blood completely cool from the excitements of earlier.

Kyoko almost choked on her spoonful of ice cream. "Fhis?!" she said, her mouth full.

Ren looked at her in surprise. "If you don't like it, we can watch something else," he offered.

"No," she said, swallowing quickly. "It's ok." She grabbed a napkin to wipe her mouth. "Do you, ah, normally watch this show?" She felt torn—she wanted him to love the show since it was her first gig, but she was also deeply aware that he had no idea she was Bo and was racing through each episode filmed, trying to figure out if any of her actions had given her identity away. Aside from the episode with Fuwa Sho, she was probably in the clear.

Ren nodded, taking another tiny bite. "It's become a favorite of mine recently. Actually, ever since they introduced the chicken character."

Kyoko's mouth fell open, ice cream dribbling down her chin. "The… CHICKEN?!" she stammered.

"Mmm," Ren agreed. "A bit weird, I know, since he doesn't talk. But he's a friend of mine."

 _Friend._ Kyoko smiled. Bo was his friend. She beamed up at him. "You're friends with the person who plays the chicken?" she asked, digging for information.

Ren pursed his lips in mild embarrassment. "Well, not the actor, no. Just the chicken."

Kyoko giggled and Ren frowned at her. "What? He refused to take his mask off!"

"Always the gentleman," she said, smiling into her ice cream bowl. "I think it's wonderful. And you know," she continued, pausing. "I bet the chicken really likes you too."

On screen, Bo-Kyoko twirled and teetered in her giant chicken suit, trying to dance to the guest popstar's latest love song. The entire cast was doubled over with laughter as she bent over and shook her tailfeathers, accidentally hitting the star as she sung. Bo-Kyoko bounded upright and waddled over to fuss over the starlet, who was happily placating her with gentle pats on the head as she continued her set. Bo-Kyoko shifted to trying to slow dance with the star, taking advantage of their proximity, but she couldn't get her stubby wings to wrap fully around her and she ended up just looking like she was awkwardly rubbing against the girl. Hikaru, trying to stand upright but unable to because he was laughing too hard, slowly made his way over and started pulling Bo-Kyoko backwards, back to her designated spot on the stage.

Kyoko glanced up at Ren, eager to see his reaction. She wasn't embarrassed by being the chicken; it was an honor to work alongside the talented Ishibashi brothers and to bring laughter to them and their fans. She didn't need any recognition, but still—if she could make Ren laugh, too, she would play the part until she died.

He was fixated to the screen, a giant, genuine smile on his face as he watched the chicken. Bo-Kyoko tripped on her back claws as she backed up with Hikaru and sat square on his face. She bounded up and started flapping around, clucking like a chicken who had just laid an egg. That did it—Ren burst into laughter, the pure absurdity of chaos on the stage as the singer tried to maintain her pace in her elegant pop ballad too much to resist. His laugh was a pure and simple sound, drawing life and emotion across every portion of his face and wrinkling the skin near his eyes with joy. Kyoko was mesmerized. His laughter was perfection. Almost inhuman. The way joy broke free from his stoic, perfect features like magic. _In fact,_ she mused, _it reminds me a lot of the magical way Corn laughed at our nasty coconut drink._

Ren caught her staring at him and tried to calm down, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I love the chicken," he said by way of explanation.

Kyoko sat bolt upright. "L-l-love— the-" she stuttered, trying to bury her face in her bowl.


	43. I Love the Chicken

"Well, he's funny," Ren said, chuckling as he watched Bo strut around the stage in the background, preparing the next segment's props while the Ishibashi brothers clustered around the pop star, peppering her with enthusiastic praise and a few simple questions. "He genuinely seems to care about the show and puts his all into acting for it, even though his name isn't even listed in the credits. I love that he is so devoted to something many other people would consider beneath them. And because of that, the entire show is turning into a true classic."

Kyoko was blushing furiously under the weight of his praise. She shoved more ice cream in her mouth, afraid to make eye contact with him lest he notice her weird reaction to his chicken-praising. "Mmmm," she muttered in acknowledgment.

Ren continued thoughtfully. "It's strange, though," he sighed. "I've had conversations with him twice now, both very personal, and yet I have no idea who he is. He, though, knows a lot about me." Ren paused, looking at Kyoko's head bowed over her bowl. "Including who I like."

Kyoko gagged on her ice cream. Her eyes bugged out as she slowly turned to stare at him, the wheels of logic in her mind grinding into overtime as she struggled to put the pieces together. Long months of denial before his confession had made them rusty with disuse. She swallowed hard.

"The chicken… knew?" she asked incredulously.

Ren laughed again, his eyes still full of joy. "Yes, the chicken. It is a bit humbling that the first person on earth to know I liked you was some random stranger in a poultry suit, but it just happened."

Kyoko stared at herself on the screen. Bo was passing out question cards to each of the Ishibashi brothers. "The chicken… that first conversation… you told him you liked a high school girl but you couldn't be with her," she said, the words flowing out slowly, her expression trance-like.

Ren's gaze sharpened as he focused on her. "Yes, I did," he said, then paused. "But how do you know that?"

Kyoko's eyes bugged out even more as she realized what she'd just done. She turned and looked at him, petrified—and then hit the tiny space of floor between the couch and coffee table in a trembling dogeza.

Ren closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. "You're the chicken," he said simply.

Kyoko didn't move. She didn't dare.

Raising his hand to cover his eyes, Ren carefully sat his bowl down. He peered between his fingers at Bo on the stage. "Of course you're the chicken," he whispered. He tried to remember exactly what he had told Bo. Had he given away Kuon? How much did she know? And if she knew ever since then, why on earth didn't she – "Why didn't you say something?"

"Iph sphy I fwsh afwhd yufh buh ahgruph," Kyoko blurted out, her face smashed into the carpet. Ren pulled her upwards by her shoulder, holding her in a kneeling position.

"I'm sorry I was afraid you'd be angry!" Kyoko repeated, continuing hastily. "We didn't get along then! You were so harsh! If you knew I, of all people, knew something so precious about you, there's no way you wouldn't skin me alive with your Smile of DooooOOOooOOOoom!" Kyoko drawled off into a moan as her torso hung in the air, suspended above a prostrate bow by only his hand.

Ren rolled his eyes. Had he really been that terrifying? A quick trip down his early memories with Kyoko and he realized, _mmm_ , she was probably right. He would've rather died then than have her know how he felt about her. "But, Kyoko," he said, sliding off the couch to kneel in front of her. "If you knew I liked you, why did you make me wait so long? Why didn't you say something…" he said softly, raising his hand to gently stroke her cheek. She looked at him earnestly, tears gathering in her eyes.

"But I didn't know," she said. "It couldn't have been me. Not the me I was then. And you were so very, very sad." The memory of his face tormented with inner guilt lanced through her and she raised her own hand to caress his jawline. "Your face…" she trailed off.

Ren grimaced. "If only…" he trailed off as well. There were too many "if onlys" in life to dwell on. He took another deep breath in and smiled at her. "No matter. The important thing is – you know now. Beyond a doubt, I hope. And if you look at me now, that sorrow is gone. Because of you." He bent his head to meet her gaze directly, seeking to show her the truth with his eyes.

Kyoko studied him, her thumb resting on his cheek as she lightly held his face with her hand. "Gone…" she whispered. But it wasn't – not completely. In the back of his expression, a flicker of guilt remained. Her heart clenched as she felt worry rise up inside her over what sorrow he still held to himself. _I will help you defeat it, Ren,_ she vowed to herself. She remembered the omurice, and the power given to her to help Corn as his priestess. _I know I can._

Ren smiled again and helped her stand. "Let's make dinner together, Kyoko," he said, holding her hand as he guided her back to the kitchen. "I want to hear all about _Yappa_ and how you created the character of Bo." Kyoko squeezed his hand, expressing her thankfulness for his swift forgiveness for her omission.

"You'll never believe who my first guest was," she said mischievously.

Sho sat on a chair in the corner of Koga's apartment building lobby, his head bowed as he studied his own hands dangling between his knees. His mind was far away, though – 11 floors up, to be precise. Focused on chocolate-colored eyes set against pale, smooth skin and elegantly arched eyebrows. A mop of slightly curly dark hair that fell forward to shade those eyes when he leaned over. Long, graceful fingers. A sinful, swirling tongue. Sho's hands clenched, remembering the feeling of Koga eating the chocolate out his hand. He cursed under his breath at himself, drawing his hands into fists. What was wrong with him? The man was a total self-absorbed prick who was weirdly obsessed with hooking Sho up with Kyoko.

Sho grimaced. Mogami Kyoko. Boy, had he ever screwed up his own life when he left the ryokan with her. Was six months of cleaning service and rent assistance really worth this mess? He rubbed at the back of his neck. It was so much simpler in middle school. Everyone knew who he was – and their place beneath him.

 _Beneath him._ Sho's mind flashed helplessly back upstairs to when Koga had almost straddled him on the couch, forcing the truth about the MV out of him by sheer physical presence. Sho swallowed hard, his pulse starting to race again as he remembered the pressure of Koga's weight bearing down on his shoulders and the feeling of his warm breath as he leaned in close. "Auuuughh!" he yelled at the lobby in pure frustration. Two women turned to look at him in shock and walked quickly away, bending to whisper at one another. Sho stood and strode out of the building, wishing for once he'd chosen an outfit that would blend in more with a crowd. He needed time to think. Time to figure out what exactly Koga was doing to him.

And what he wanted to do about it.

Sho strode out onto the street and decided not to call his driver. The day was warm; a walk would help him clear his head. He spotted a shopping mall and ducked inside—first store he saw, he'd buy less conspicuous clothes to avoid being mobbed on his walk. Fans were an unavoidable complexity when you were as handsome and talented as he, and the less hands he had pawing him right now, the better. Sho scoured the mall directory for a suitable store. His eyes lit upon an option he never would have considered before… _but it would be the perfect disguise, wouldn't it?_ Sho nodded to himself and set off in the direction of the Armandy outlet.

Two thousand dollars and thirty minutes later, Sho emerged deeply uncomfortable but definitely unrecognizable. He stopped in the restroom and wet his hair, rearranging his standard "devil may care" tousled look into a sleek, combed back style. Using only his fingers meant it was less than smooth and a few tendrils fell back out across his face, but it would suffice. Sho stood and smirked at himself in the mirror. He turned to examine himself in the full-length mirror by the door. "Damn, son," he said. "Number one for sure."

A sudden burst of inspiration hit. Wouldn't it be hilarious to show up and blow Koga away with this style? Sho laughed out loud at the thought. He'd rushed out of Koga's apartment in a mess, shoving the actor off him and racing out, slamming the door behind him. He'd only made it to the lobby before collapsing, sure, but not exactly the exit of a man in control of his own destiny. _This, though,_ Sho thought as he adjusted the collar on his fitted white dress shirt, the top three buttons undone, _sends another message._ A triple threat—Fuwa Sho would dominate the rock scene, the punk scene, and the model scene. He smirked at himself again, pleased with his own handsomeness and intelligence. He confidently grabbed his phone out of the shopping bag and dialed Koga.

Koga picked up with a noncommittal grunt. "Mm?"

"Dinner. I'll pick you up in an hour," Sho said simply.

"What?" Koga said, startled.

"Did I stutter?" Sho laughed.

"But—why?" Koga asked.

"Does it matter?" Sho said, getting angry. "Make something up. But don't be late. I hate it when people make me wait." He hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket. That man could make him angry so easily. _Just like Kyoko!_ What was with these people in his life? Does everybody think they can just do as they please with Fuwa Sho? Sho held his chin up, continuing to examine himself in the mirror. _Wait and see, Hiromune Koga,_ he challenged. _See if you can handle me._


	44. The Cameo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I finished this, "Every Move You Make" by The Police came on Stranger Things AND I GOT SO HAPPY! I own neither that song nor SkipBeat, but this must be a sign this is a GOOD CHAPTER right?! Haha! I hope so... :-)

Ren could not stop laughing as Kyoko described her debut on _Yappa Kimugure Rock_ versus Sho. Every time she acted out Sho's part she'd hunch her shoulders and grimace, making her version of him look like some kind of wicked, scheming hunchback. "This is officially better than the on-screen version," he gasped out between laughs. The timer went off and Kyoko stopped her reenactment, pulling the eggplant parmesan out of the oven. The smell of roasted tomato and cheese filled the apartment, making Kyoko sigh with pleasure.

"I love cooking for you," she said, turning to face him with the steaming hot pan. Her face was surrounded with steam, her cheeks reddened and her golden eyes gleaming with joy. Ren smiled, contentment spreading throughout his being. He grabbed plates and held them out.

"And I'll happily eat it til the day I die," he said. "At least most of it." They both laughed and headed back into the living room to set up their table.

The food was delicious as usual, and a quiet settled over the pair punctuated only by Ren's compliments for her cooking and her happy thankfulness for the opportunity. After they finished, Ren sat on the couch and patted next to him, welcoming her up. She stacked their plates and joined him. The weight of keeping the secret of Bo from him was freshly lifted off and she felt renewed and vibrant.

 _Yappa Kimugure Rock_ replays still streamed on the TV. Kyoko looked up at Ren. "What do you want to do, Ren?" she asked him. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

"This," he said, nuzzling her head.

"No," she giggled, pushing him back a little. "I mean, with life? What do you want to do next?"

He looked down at her, thinking. She continued. "You're already number one in Japan—so I just wondered where you saw yourself next. Do you want to do more movies like Cain Heel?" she suggested, blushing lightly in remembrance of her own character's relationship with Cain.

"Mmm," Ren purred under his breath. "Only if Setsu comes too." He rubbed her back lightly, making sure to hold her closely.

Kyoko wriggled. "That tickles!" she giggled. "I really want to know," she said. "I want to know your dreams."

Ren sighed into her soft golden hair. "What I want," he murmured. He thought carefully. For so many months he'd focused almost entirely on her. "I wanted you—and you're here," he said tenderly. He sat up and looked at her.

"I'm here," she repeated.

He smiled at her peacefully, a true smile from his heart. "I want to grow. I want to challenge myself. I want…" he paused. "I want to be a star in America on my own power."

Kyoko cocked her head at his odd wording. "Your _own_ power…?"

"And you?" Ren asked, nudging her away from her train of thought.

Kyoko beamed, bouncing a little on the couch she was so eager to share. "I want to give people real magic. I want to become the best actress in the entire world and let people all over the world experience real magic by bringing their favorite characters to life!" She held her arms out wide, her face lit with passion.

Ren gazed at her in awe. She was radiant. "You'll do it, my love," he said. "And I'm here to help you." Kyoko pouted slightly, shaking her finger at him.

"I'm going to do it on my own power too, Ren! No interfering!"

He laughed, holding his hands up, remembering a time she'd held her middle finger up at him in a gesture full of a very different emotion. "No, that's not what I meant. As your boyfriend—a place to land, a person to listen, a partner to practice with. Honestly, Kyoko," he said, his voice growing firm. "You don't need me to interfere. You're scaling the heights already by force of pure talent."

Kyoko started to protest, but was cut short by Ren's phone ringing.

"Hmm, it's Yashiro," Ren said. "Do you mind?" Kyoko shook her head and Ren stood to answer.

"What? You're being serious? Of course— no, wait; I have to make sure it's alright with Kyoko. Hold on." Ren turned to face her, a giant grin on his face but uncertainty in his almond-shaped eyes. "It's about _Lotus_ ," he began, "they want me to cameo as Shizuma's old comrade. I won't have any scenes opposite Momiji, just Shizuma, but it's your show. I don't want to get in the way."

Kyoko bounded off the sofa and lunged into the air to grab the phone from Ren's hand. "Yukihito! Get him that part now!"

Yashiro laughed. This was perfection! Now if he could just work it so Kuresaki-san cast Ren as Momiji's true love, he would finally have another fanfic category to read other than the slightly worn-out Mio x Katsuki pairings. He'd already devoured every single one ever written and was rereading even the worst of them for the hundredth time. New RenKyo material coming soon, he thought, allowing himself a tiny fist pump. "Yes ma'am!" he said happily to Kyoko. "Tell him goodnight for me— I'll work out the details with our President tonight."

Kyoko hung up and turned to embrace Ren, hugging his midsection as she grinned up at him. "I get to see you act!" she crowed. Ren smiled at her, her excitement contagious.

"I get to see YOU," he rephrased, thanking Yashiro a million times over in his head as he hugged her back.

Sho's driver pulled up outside Koga's apartment promptly on time. It ticked Sho off that he was so punctual — he wanted to make Koga wait like Sho had waited for him, but when it came time he just couldn't help leaving as soon as possible.

Koga loitered in the lobby for a few minutes, pretending to examine the art work. He'd glimpsed Fuwa's SUV waiting outside and smirked. _The longer he waits for me, the stronger his reactions will be_ , he thought mirthfully. The kid was a total pain, but entertaining nonetheless. Koga smiled. _Time to go_.

He adjusted his Adidas track jacket to sit perfectly just before opening the back passenger side door of Fuwa's car. He ducked slightly to get inside — and froze.

"...Fuwa?" he said, slowly.

Sho smirked. Exactly the reaction he wanted. He shifted his shoulders against the car's wall, broadening his frame as much as possible.

"Yeah? What, you forget what I look like so fast old man?" Sho was trying his best not to smile. He was going to dress like this the rest of his LIFE!

"You changed," Koga said, still standing outside the car. Fuwa's legs looked long, and slender in the fitted black dress pants. His ankles peeked out beneath, the pants grazing the tops of his dark leather dress shoes. A perfectly tailored slim-fit light gray dress shirt with cuffs rolled up at the ankles topped the ensemble, accentuating his steel blue eyes. When Koga's eyes met Fuwa's he blinked and shook his head slightly. The self-satisfied cat-in-the-cream look on Fuwa's face had broken the spell. Koga schooled his face back to passivity and climbed inside to sit on the bench seat next to - but not too close to - Fuwa.

The two rode in silence for several blocks. Sho stared out the window, his back straight and proud. He was completely satisfied with his prank and busy deciding how best to follow up. Koga stared out the front window, taking advantage of the occasional brighter streetlight to sneak sideways glances at the singer. He hated to admit it, but the transformation was impressive. If only the singer had more self-control and didn't make his vanity so freakishly apparent. Koga sighed in frustration. That very vanity could ruin everything, not just his looks.

"If you're going to win Mogami-san," he began; immediately earning a dramatic groan and slump from Fuwa, "you need to stop being so obviously into your own appearance."

"What?!" Fuwa exclaimed, turning to face Koga indignantly. "You think I'm wearing this because I wanted to improve my appearance? Hah! I wanted to—" Sho cut off, suddenly considering his next choice of words.

"Whatever your motivation, I could care less," Koga continued. "But you've been obviously gleeful over any kind of reaction, positive or negative, to the change. That's what I'm referring to."

Sho pouted. "Positive OR negative? More like absolutely jaw-dropping," he muttered.

Koga tolled his eyes. "Point in case."

Sho turned in his seat to fully face Koga. "Don't tell me you don't think I look sexy in this. You know I do," he said, forcefully.

Koga blinked at him, trying to keep his features calm beneath his wavy fringe.

Sho leaned in closer, his hand resting on the seat just inches away from Koga's leg. "Say it," he whispered. Sho's heart was pounding. He wanted to hear this man admit it. Koga's eyes were wide as he stared back at Sho. In the dim light Sho could just barely make out his own reflection in his dark brown irises. He pushed closer still and Koga shifted back a fraction. Sho felt a thrill run down him; he loved the sensation of power over this formidable man. He had a sudden urge to pick up his other hand and coil his fingers into Koga's dark waves, gripping him tight.

Koga felt trapped before Fuwa. He hated lying outright — he would do what was necessary to avoid being used by others and to get what he wanted from them, but lying outright was distasteful. It was a practice of those unable to meet their needs using pure talent and wit. He felt the way his body responded to the singer leaning towards him, and it wasn't at all displeasing. Part of him wanted to see the way Fuwa would respond if he rose to meet him suddenly, answering Fuwa's question without using words. And yet the very thought of being forced into any sort of confession of the fact by such a twat made his blood boil. _Definitely negates the physical appeal_ , he thought. His body in Armandy— _beautiful_. His personality— _extremely lacking_.

Koga decided to force the question's answer from Fuwa instead. He simply placed his hand on Fuwa's shoulder. His fingers turned to slowly rub and trace the length of the shirt collar. He examined it carefully, his expression carefully held still and calm. He let his fingers trace down, stopping on each button to pause for the briefest of moments. He noticed the singer's chest start to rise higher with each breath, his heart rate quickening more and more as Koga's hand dropped lower and lower. Suddenly Sho sat back, moving to cross his legs tightly in front of him and rest his arms across his thighs as he pressed against the opposite side of the car.

"Never mind," he said. "Forget it." _Shit shit shit_ , he thought, small beads of sweat forming at his temples. _Did I seriously almost kiss him? Kiss a man?!_ Sho shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Koga's wandering hand had brought concrete feeling to thoughts a few seconds before and the urge to act— to just lean forward, close his eyes, and drown himself in this sudden and shocking revelation that he wanted to taste another ma— "No!" he said aloud.

"No?" Koga repeated, watching Fuwa carefully. The singer twitched at the sound of his voice, but he didn't reply. Koga considered pressing the point, but decided to leave him be. They still had to make it through dinner. Koga smiled broadly. This was turning out to be quite entertaining after all. _No wonder they're friends_ , he thought to himself. _The last time I was this intrigued was the auditions for Momiji._ He frowned suddenly, peering in the darkness at Fuwa Sho. _This one better not ruin it all by falling for Tsuruga Ren too._

Sho sat in silence, trying to steady himself and calm down his very physical reaction to Koga Hiromune; too soon, the car stopped in front of his favorite bar, High Five. He'd wanted to impress Koga with the English he'd been studying slowly, showing off what an international star he was rising to be. It fit perfectly with the worldly air of his outfit. Of course it did. Sho tried to steel himself, but the weirdness with Koga unsettled him; part of him just wanted to stay inside the car forever and run away from all these pretensions. He suddenly felt very young and inexperienced; like he was playing dress-up. A warm, steady hand prodded his shoulder gently.

"Are we getting out?" Koga asked. Sho could tell he was smiling slightly from the tone of his voice.

"I'm not hungry," Sho said tersely.

"From what I understand," Koga said, "this place is better known for their drinks than their food, so hunger shouldn't be an issue."

Sho bit his lip, still staring out of the car. _Can I risk liquor?_ he worried.

Koga's phone pinged. He opened the message and cursed. Sho turned slightly to look at him, curious as to the reaction.

"Get out of the car," Koga demanded, his demeanor shifting. "I need a drink, and you're coming with me."


	45. Strawberries

Sho found himself trailing after Koga through the packed bar to two stools near the rear of the restaurant. Several people had cued in on the pair as they pushed past standing groups; one man tall and athletic with unusually thick and wavy dark hair and a slender jawline followed by a shorter, slender companion with slightly mussed slicked-back blonde hair and impeccable tailored clothing. Sho heard some of the women chatting, catching drifting phrases from their conversations. "…Hiromune, isn't it?! But who's… friend… nice ass…" Sho felt sure that last comment was directed at him, but he glanced down at Koga's back, trying to evaluate and compare. Koga reached the bar and leaned forward to order a drink, his backside suddenly accentuated in Sho's vision against the tight jeans he wore. Sho gulped and looked away, turning around a little too fast and finishing his short walk to the bar backwards. He bumped into the bar next to Koga, earning him a somewhat ticked off glare from beneath the actor's wavy fringe.

"Relax," Koga growled. "No one is going to recognize you in that outfit. Too different from your typical nonsense." The bitter tone and caustic reference made Sho's pride prickle and he turned to argue with Koga.

"Hey! My fans will recognize me in any—" Koga waved his hand, cutting him off and ignoring his interjections as he raised his glass to his lips and downed the entire cocktail in three gulps. Sho stared. Koga just slammed the glass down and gestured for a refill. The bartender was prompt, recognizing good business, and instantly refilled his glass with straight Scotch whisky. Koga threw it back too, gasping slightly at the alcoholic burn.

"What's the matter with you?" Sho pouted. "I didn't come here so you could get hammered and force me to drag you home. Don't be an ass."

Koga remained silent, fixated on his now-empty glass. He raised his hand to gesture for another but Sho grabbed his hand and forced it back to the bar, dropping it like a hot coal immediately afterwards. He felt sweat start to bead at his neckline again. _They keep these bars too hot for this size crowd,_ he complained to himself.

"What was in that text?" he asked Koga. Sho jerked back as Koga's head flew up, his dark eyes burning with an inner fire as he shifted his intense focus to Sho. "It's got you all messed up," Sho continued, holding up one hand as a calming gesture.

Koga called for another drink and this time Sho let him. When the bartender arrived, Sho ordered a strawberry daquiri, "heavy on the rum." The bartender merely nodded and left, but Koga roared with laughter, throwing his head back. Sho blushed and scowled. Koga laughed so hard at Sho's drink choice that tears started to gather in the corners of his eyes and he held his hands around his chest.

"Stop it," Sho demanded. "It's good!" Koga doubled over at Sho's attempted defense of his choice, roaring with laughter. "Cut it out!" Sho said forcefully. The bartender arrived with their drinks, a straight whisky and a massive pink strawberry daiquiri complete with a fileted strawberry, an orange cut into the shape of a swan, and a hot pink umbrella floating on top.

Koga almost died. He stepped backwards from the bar, laughing uncontrollably and unable to breathe. Sho felt the eyes of most patrons in the bar on him and flushed. He clenched his fists, his whole body going rigid with rage. He turned and stalked over to Koga, grabbing him by the shirt with both hands and holding him up and close to his face, shaking him slightly as he yelled. "STRAWBERRIES ARE GOOD, YOU ASSHOLE!" He wanted to punch Koga so bad, but knew several people in the restaurant had potentially recognized him as Koga Hiromune and couldn't risk outright violence.

Koga let out one last blast of laughter directly in Fuwa's face and tried to wipe his tears. He patted Fuwa's hands where the singer gripped his shirt and gasped out in-between breaths, "I… bet—haha—you like – strawberry… haha—pud—ding… haha!"

Sho pulled Koga in close, breathing deeply to try and contain his rage. "I will _kill_ you if you leak this, bastard," he muttered in a low voice. Koga smiled widely at him, his face flushed as he merely nodded.

"My secret," he whispered. "Now let go, _berry boy_." Sho suddenly became intensely aware of how very close Koga's face was to his, the pair of them less than a breath apart and able to hear whispers clearly in the middle of a crowded bar. He dropped his hands, holding them out and away in a gesture of surrender as he stepped backwards. He accidentally bumped into another patron and muttered an apology as Koga grabbed his shirtsleeve and led him back to their drinks at the bar.

Sho sat on his stool glumly, staring at his stupid oversized pink drink. _Stupid strawberries. "_ Stupid, tasty, wonderful strawberries," he muttered to himself. Koga reached over and patted him on the back.

"It takes a real man to order a giant pink drink," he said softly, his voice still containing traces of humor. "Only posers have to order a whisky to secure their manhood." Sho turned his head sideways to glance at Koga in surprise. The actor smiled broadly at him, the first genuine smile he'd shown Sho since the day they met. It lit up his eyes, almost lightening their color with the force of its emotion. He winked at Sho and sipped his whisky neat.

Sho leaned forward on the bar and peered down the length of the restaurant, checking to make sure no one was staring at him. For some reason, most people had decided to ignore the pair after Sho's outburst – except for a gaggle of teenage girls a few seats down who were clearly leaning to and fro trying desperately to catch a clear look at he and Koga. He grimaced slightly. _The cost of fame_. If he enjoyed his drink now, there might be evidence of him actually drinking a frou-frou drink in public. _It takes a real man to order a giant pink drink_ , he heard Koga's words repeat in his head. "Screw it," he said, grabbing his drink and chugging it straight from the side, ignoring the straw. The orange swan bonked against his lips as he drank and Sho directed his anger at it, cursing it out privately inside his head. Suddenly a crashing headache hit him and Sho slammed the drink against the bar. "Shit!" he ejaculated, gripping the bar.

Koga set his drink down and raised his hands, swiftly placing one on either side of Sho's temples. He gently turned Sho's head to face him, cradling the sides of his face. "Put your tongue on the roof of your mouth," he said calmly, his face gentle. "Brain freeze is caused by the blood vessels in your mouth constricting too quickly." He massaged Sho's temples as he spoke. "We just need to warm them back up. Relax," he said, his smile returning, "and stop chugging frozen drinks."

Sho sucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth obediently, staring at Koga. The actor's large hands were warm against his skin, their gentle rubbing motions soothing the rapid pounding in his brain. Soon the pain subsided, but for some reason, Sho couldn't bring himself to let Koga know immediately. He sat still, breathing short and shallow, watching the ways the curls fell across Koga's forehead. Koga dropped his hands a few seconds later and turned back to his drink. "Hey!" Sho called out, indignant.

"You're fine. You relaxed thirty seconds ago," Koga said calmly. Sho blushed furiously and turned back to his drink. "Slow," Koga commanded. Sho sneered at him petulantly but drank slowly and carefully.

"So…" he finally questioned. "What was that text?"

Koga paused, his glass halfway to his lips. He seemed to consider, then put the glass down and rubbed the rim while he spoke, his finger leaving a trail of glittering beads of condensation behind. "I'm going to have a new costar on _Lotus,_ " he said simply, leaving it at that.

Sho scoffed. "All that drama over a new costar? What, is he some American or something? Afraid of getting upstaged on your big show?"

Koga glared at him. "No," he said, "and yes." Sho looked at him confused. _What the heck was that supposed to mean?_ "I have a lot riding on my performance now," he finished softly.

"Ah," Sho said, nodding knowingly. "Nerves." He didn't have much experience with stage fright; Fuwa Sho was simply too awesome to ever worry about a crowd not loving him. But he was pretty sure it was common for other people. Kyoko, for one, got very strange during their first takes of _Prisoner_. "You'll do fine," he said, staring straight ahead. "You're Koga Hiromune, after all."

Koga turned and stared at Fuwa. "Koga Hiromune…" he said, his voice trailing off in thought. Then he smiled, raised his drink, and downed the remainder in a single gulp. He turned in his seat to look over the crowds, leaving his glass empty behind him and not caring anymore if people noticed him. He smirked as he looked out over the dancing pairs. _That's right. I'm Koga Hiromune. And even_ he _will stand up and take notice when we act together. Side-by-side._ Koga let his mind wander, roaming over the possibilities. He didn't have any details on the scene yet. So many delicious possibilities. The gaggle of girls from down the bar pushed their way through the crowd and stopped in front of Koga, bouncing with eagerness as they prodded at each other, giggling. Koga smiled at them and nudged Fuwa.

Fuwa turned around and saw the fans gathered. He grabbed his phone to text Shoko that he needed an out and quick, before they were mobbed. But their question stopped him mid-motion before he could send it.

"CAN WE TAKE A PICTURE OF YOU AND YOUR BOYFRIEND?" the chosen girl blurted, bouncing up and down as she pointed at Koga and Sho. "Boy-Love forever!" she squealed, ecstatic. Koga and Fuwa's mouths dropped in unison as they turned to stare and point at each other, blabbering nonsense negations.

"He's not—"

"We aren't—"

"I'm NOT—"

"Really?! _HIM?!"_ Koga finished, his face flabbergasted. Sho turned to stare at him.

"What does THAT mean?!" he yelled back. "Him?! As if I'm not good enough for some bastard like you!"

Koga just rolled his eyes at him, looking back at the girls with eyes wide in innocent question as he mouthed, "HIM…?!" The pack tittered and snapped photos with their phones. Sho could not believe what was happening. He grabbed Koga by the arm and shoved his way through the crowd, dragging Koga bodily after him. Koga twisted his torso to wave back at the girls, his curls bouncing as he stumbled after Sho. Outside, he threw Koga against the wall of the bar and scowled at him.

"What," Koga said, his voice laced with sarcasm, "would you rather I told them you were my gay lover and embraced you on camera?" Sho's face went red-hot as the image flashed through his mind.

"NO! Ugh! Gross!" he yelled. "Cut it out, ass!" Sho stomped away. "Find your own way home!" he yelled back over his shoulder as he dialed Shoko and marched away down the block. Koga just smiled and leaned back against the bar wall. His spirits were unexpectedly high after the ridiculous outing, and he felt more than ready to face down Tsuruga Ren tomorrow on set. _Strawberries_ , he thought, chuckling to himself. _What a twat._


	46. Practice

Shoko stared out the window of Sho's car. That blonde man couldn't be Sho. It couldn't be. But at the same time… her mind traced back over memories of Sho's body from when they first met. She grimaced slightly at the thought of her carelessness being swept up in the attentions of the young star, but she had to admit the memory confirmed the man on the street in head-to-toe Armandy was either Sho or someone who needed to be hired ASAP as his body double. She signaled for the driver to pull over and rolled down the window as she called Sho's cell.

Sure enough, the man on the street pulled out his phone and picked up. "Where are you?" he demanded.

"Turn around, Sho," Shoko said calmly. She waved her hand out the window. Sho stalked over, ripped the door open and plopped inside. He sat on the seat, slowly turning into stone. Shoko just observed him carefully, fascinated by his choice of clothing for the day.

"What has come over you lately?" she asked, her tone just slightly veering towards worry. "First you postpone our return overseas, then you suddenly demand a change in location for the MV, rewrite the _entire_ song, and force Mogami-san to be cast? And now— _Armandy?_ " Shoko shook her head in wonder. She knew Sho was obsessed with Kyoko, but had hoped it would resolve itself with a simply, joy-filled friendship. He seemed to be careening towards obsessive love instead. She sighed. "A woman doesn't find relentless pursuit to be admirable, usually," she said. "Better to play hard to get."

Sho's visage tripled in intensity as he felt rage fill his body. "WHY IS EVERYONE GIVING ME ADVICE I DON'T EVEN ASK FOR!" he shouted, his eyes blazing and fists clenched. "This has NOTHING TO DO WITH KYOKO!" he roared.

Shoko sat back aghast. "…nothing?!" she gasped, blinking. "But— the MV? The casting? Those _lyrics_!" Shoko was completely confused. She'd never read more passionate song lyrics in her life; the words made even her feel like Sho could be desirable in bed again. She shuddered at the thought and vowed to never listen to the song ever again. The driver had turned the car around and they passed the bar where Koga still stood, leaning against the wall with a content smile on his face. Sho glared at him as they drove by. Suddenly he sat up straight and banged on the door, shouting peremptorily for the driver to stop. The driver pulled over immediately, earning a loud honk from the car behind him.

Sho leapt out and stalked over to Koga, his anger mounting with each step. "Messing with me… teasing me… threatening me…" he muttered. He slammed the actor back against the wall and braced his arms on either side of his shoulders, leaning in close. Koga rolled his head back, surprised but too drunk to react quickly. The whisky he'd chugged had settled in quickly once the adrenaline of the text had passed. He blinked at Sho and smiled lazily.

" _You_ interrup*hic*ted a verah niiiiice dream I wush having," he said, smiling secretly to himself as he drifted back to his daydream about a certain tall actor striding out from the water, completely naked and bent on ravishing every single inch of Koga's body. "But ish ok," Koga said, shoving his hand awkwardly up between Sho's arms to rest it on top of the singer's shoulder.

Sho's eyes grew hard and bright as he glared at Koga. His muscles tensed, hunching his shoulders forward slightly as he struggled to maintain his control. "You listen to me," he growled, his eyes flashing. "No one can use me. No one controls me. No one threatens me. And no one takes my place. Someday soon, Koga Hiromune, you'll look up – and I'll be the one on top. Not Tsuruga Ren."

Koga's eyes grew wider at Sho's words, a slow blush creeping up his neck as the mental image of Fuwa on top straddling him, covering him, filling him—his lips suddenly felt dry and he licked them. He needed space and moved his hand to try and push Fuwa backwards but couldn't find the coordination and it just pushed gently against Fuwa's chest muscle. He felt his breathing start to accelerate as his captivity became more fully apparent.

Sho's heart was racing with pure adrenaline. He _would_ take down not only Tsuruga Ren but also Koga Hiromune! He _would_ be known as Japan's Number One Most Desirable Man—on top of the charts in music, in movies, and in every single woman's heart. He belonged on top! He was breathing heavily with excitement when Koga's hand pushed gently on his chest and he stopped everything – plotting, thinking, breathing—with that small touch. He locked eyes with Koga and saw not fear or anger but a very different emotion roiling in the depths. Sho watched, captivated, for a moment longer than he could explain then suddenly shoved himself off the wall and strode back to the car impatiently.

From behind, Koga's slightly slurred voice rang out. "Take me home," he said simply.

"Bugger off," Sho retorted.

"I hash strawberrah pudding," Koga said in a sing-song voice. Sho hesitated, but kept moving.

"Fuwa!" Koga shouted, trying to force him to listen. He was in no state to find his own way home.

"Oh, for heavens sake! Just let him in the car!" Shoko called from the rolled-down window, waving at Koga. Sho groaned dramatically, threw open the car door and climbed inside without a word—but left the car door wide open.

Koga grinned and pushed himself off the wall, stumbling slightly as he gained and lost his balance. He half-sat, half-slid inside and made himself quite comfortable in the rear seat near Fuwa.

"Home, Jeeves," he said in jest. Sho rolled his eyes and cued up the location of Koga's apartment on the GPS system.

Back at Ren's, Kyoko and Ren lay side by side on the floor. He lay on his back, his phone with the script text displayed held above his head and his ankles crossed with outstretched legs. She lay on her stomach, legs bent at the knees and feet swinging happily in the air as she rocked them slightly, her face furrowed in concentration over the script on her phone laying the floor in front of her. Yashiro had sent each of them a copy, begging for mercy as the part started filming the very next day.

"Apparently they'd scripted Kijima for the part," Yashiro said in his earlier phone call, "but he had a nasty fall in his latest cologne advert filming and broke his right arm. I had *cough* signed you up to be an understudy of sorts for any of the parts as soon as I heard Kyoko had won the part. Sorry, Ren-san. I should've asked, but I never imagined it would be this inconvenient to fulfill the position."

"Next time, make sure to specify I only understudy for parts where the character is madly in love with Kyoko's character," Ren said, only partly joking. "I don't know that I can play anything else convincingly right now."

Ren secretely agreed with Yashiro's plot, however; any part was a fantastic part if he got to act in one of Kyoko's shows. _You never know where it will lead_ , he thought, comforting himself with the reality that movie sets and movie scripts were incredibly fluid entities.

Kyoko played Shizuma to Ren's unnamed ninja master. They spent most of their time working on the sparring scenes; drilling one another over and over until Ren learned each move perfectly. Kyoko's back started to drip with sweat; her face was flushed and her hair stuck to the sides of her face in small wet spots from her sweat. Beads rolled down the bridge of Ren's nose and a slight stain of darker gray on the back of his shirt were the only proofs of any physical exertion on his part. Kyoko pouted slightly but threw herself at him again.

"One – two – three – hit! One – two – three – kick! One – two – three – block! One - " Eventually the rhythm fell into muscle memory and the two spun and slashed and ducked smoothly around the living room, avoiding all obstacles except those that will not move. A sudden feint out of order made Ren lose his balance completely as he swung and stepped the wrong way for a proper block. He tried to step forward to right himself but it only increased his lack of balance and he started to fall forward. Kyoko cried out and braced herself, the impact jarring her as Ren's shoulders crashed into her chest. He gasped out a thank you and turned to her, standing up but not moving away. They were so close; no more than a heartbeat apart.

"Let's go over the lines next," he offered, his voice hushed. Both of their faces were flushed and hot from the exertion of the workout. Working on lines would be the perfect reason to rest. _And snuggle_ , Ren thought hopefully, _at least through the first few read throughs_. He grabbed towels from the canister in the spa and wet each with cool water slightly, wringing out any excess moisture. Slowly and with care he used one towel to lovingly wipe off Kyoko's face. The cloth continued down her neck – then up and around to the back before either one of them got too tempted to be able to move on. He started to wipe himself off when Kyoko's small hand came up and tried to cover his.

Kyoko smiled at Ren and simply said, "My turn." She pulled the cloth out of his grip and slowly wiped down all of his exposed skin. His torso tingled under the coolness. When she finished she patted him firmly on the back a few times and immediately went in to turn on the kettle to brew some tea. She sighed as she leaned back on his counter, waiting for the water to boil. "Always waiting," she said softly. She looked up at Ren, diligently reading his script. "But not for him," she said, smiling broadly. "His tomorrow and mine mean the same thing," she mused happily. _Because tomorrow,_ she thought _, I get to see him ACT!_


	47. Poster Boy

Sho and Koga had quite the entrance into his apartment building. Shoko's heels and pencil skirt made helping support Koga too awkward to attempt, so Sho alone braced him up as the pair careened through the lobby. Koga felt like dancing; all his nerves about impressing Ren on the shoot the next day had been completely erased by whisky and Berry Boy. He laughed and flung his arms wide, trying to spin. Sho cursed at him as his sudden lunges made Sho stumble. The security guard pursed his lips in disapproval as the pair reached the elevator somehow and Sho shoved Koga up against the wall, panting with exertion. Shoko slowly walked up behind them, lost in checking and responding to emails on her phone. Sho's shirt was partially untucked from his pants; his hair was completely disheveled as Koga accidentally whacked him upside the head each time he tried to sway and sing; his brand new designer shoes were scuffed on the left side from the times Koga had suddenly decided to change direction and stepped on Sho's foot. All in less than one hundred paces.

Sho grumbled, trying to fix his hair in the vague reflection of the metal elevator doors. He huffed, giving up – and felt a hand smoothing down the back of his head. He swatted at it, thinking it was Shoko being motherly. But it was Koga who tutted at him instead, swatting back fiercely and resuming his attention to the back of Sho's head. Sho bit his lip in consternation but let him finish. _He's going to fight me over it anyways,_ he justified to himself. Anyways, Shoko was still busily typing on her phone. The doors opened and Sho grabbed Koga around his waist, tossing his arm back over his shoulder stopping Koga's smoothing halfway through. Koga twisted, fixated on his task and trying to finish despite the awkward angle. "Almost nice again," he muttered. "Don't worry, Berry Boy."

Sho fumed, but said nothing. He hoped if he never ever acknowledged the new "nickname" it would disappear once Koga regained his senses. _Just don't do anything to make it stick in his memory,_ he cautioned himself. He let Koga do as he pleased as long as he kept moving forward into the elevator. The doors closed; Shoko leaned up against the wall, enjoying the time of simply being productive as someone else occupied her difficult charge. Koga hummed to himself. He'd finished the masterpiece of Sho's hair (a total triumph from his perspective) and hadn't a single care in the world. Sho stood grumpily, feeling like in their group he and he alone cared about anything rational. They reached the eleventh floor and shuffled out. Koga's tune shifted and Sho smirked as he recognized his own song _Chocolate._ He'd sent Koga the pre-release last night; apparently it was to his liking. He shifted Koga's weight and stood up straighter beneath him, finding the energy to partially lift Koga and speed up their merry progress down the hall.

Koga's door was locked. Sho nudged him. "Hey," he said, "open your door." Koga smiled broadly at him and leaned back against the wall.

"Ahhhhh- no," he said, beaming. Sho's eyes widened incredulously. "You'll eat alllll myyyyy puuuuudding," Koga sang at him. Sho threw his hands in the air and turned to leave, exasperated. Shoko stepped out in front of him and tsked him with her finger, never stopping her pursuit of a clean inbox.

Sho growled at her. "You get the key then!" he demanded. Shoko stared at him aghast.

"I'm a _woman_ , Fuwa Sho! A woman does not rifle through some man's pockets. That's indecent! Find the key yourself," she huffed.

Sho pursed his lips, rubbing them together in indecisiveness. He really did not want to "rifle through" Koga's pockets. Koga was still leaning against the wall, his eyes sleepy beneath his curly bangs, a happy smile on his face as he muttered to himself about keeping all the pudding. Sho blew up towards his own bangs in frustration, forgetting they were slicked back. Or at least mostly slicked back.

He carefully approached Koga, his hands raised in the air in supplication. "Just let me let you in, man," he said calmly. "Give me the key."

Koga smiled and shook his head.

"The key," Sho said, his voice lowering in a threat. "Or else." He stepped closer, holding his palm out and upwards.

Koga grinned and leaned forward unsteadily. "Or elsh what, Fuwa-kun?" he said softly. He put his hands up behind his head and leaned back against the wall, relaxed. "Get it yourself."

Sho froze, staring at Koga. He was spread-eagle, inviting Sho to pat him down for the key. Sho swallowed hard.

"Oh for godssake," Shoko snapped, stepping around Sho to shove her hand in Koga's pocket and pull out his keyring. She shoved the key in the hole and turned it, throwing the door open and marching in. Koga just smiled at Sho, a knowing look in his eyes. Sho scowled back and followed Shoko, leaving Koga in the hallway. Shoko turned around and grabbed Koga by the shirtsleeve, pulling him in stumbling after them.

"Where's the pudding?" Sho demanded, stalking into the kitchen. Koga burst into laughter, plopping himself on the floor by the kitchen door.

"Puuuudding," he laughed. "You really think I shtock strawberrah puuudding?" He slid farther down onto the floor, almost completely prostrate as he laughed to himself. "Who keeps strawberrah pudding at home! Berrah Boy, thazwho!"

Sho turned red with anger and stomped over to Koga, ready to kick him in his annoying side and be done with it. Koga held up his hand and pointed at Shoko. "Ah-you, whatsyourname. Go get pudding. Berry Boy can't leave until he gets his puuuuuddddddinnnnng," he declared. Shoko laughed.

"Oh, why not," she said, playing along. "Sho, get him cleaned up and in bed while I'm gone. I'll get you puuuuudding."

"I am not a child!" Sho yelled. "I do not need pudding!" He stomped his foot on the floor, making Koga roll over and laugh again.

"No, but you know you want it," Shoko said, enjoying being able to tease Sho a little. She checked her purse for funds, waved at Sho, and left.

Sho stood in the kitchen alone. He looked at Koga on the floor and at the shut door. Alone together again. Not for the first time—but nothing felt the same as that first trip over to Koga's apartment. Sho licked his lips as Koga started humming _Chocolate_. He pulled open the fridge to find an ample stock of local beer, grabbed one, opened it, and chugged it. Liquid armor applied, Sho roll his shirt sleeves up as high as they would go and walked over to the prostrate Koga.

He nudged him with his foot. "Get up," he said. "Time for bed." Koga just smiled at him, his eyes shut, still humming. Sho kicked him a little harder, making Koga swat at him. He sighed. "I should totally drag you into the room by your feet, you jerk," Sho muttered while he stooped low and scooped up Koga under his arms, lifting his torso up to hold against his chest. He was too heavy to actually carry, so this would have to do. Slowly, Sho backed out of the entryway by the kitchen and into the living room. A door led into other rooms on either side of the living room. Sho shifted Koga in his arms, trying to decide which to use. He chose left; it was closer.

He could smell the whisky on Koga's breath. And a lighter tang of citrus — his shampoo? Sho looked down at the mess of waves on top Koga's head with a sudden urge to bury his face in them and sniff deeply to confirm if that was the source of the scent. He settled for wrinkling his nose instead, grunting as he held Koga tight with one arm while he opened the bedroom (hopefully?) door with his other hand.

The door swung open behind him to reveal his guess was right. Koga's bedroom was sparsely decorated but absolutely covered in clothes, the chaos of outfits clashing with the neat minimalist organization of the rest of the apartment. Sho almost tripped over a pile of jeans as he headed slowly for the bed, earning the laundry a nasty glare. At the side of the bed he moved around Koga, wrapping his arms tightly around the actor's chest to lift and toss him onto the bed. Halfway through the motion, Sho's foot slipped on a discarded leather jacket and he fell cursing onto Koga on top the bed.

The only sound in the room was his pounding heart as he lay fully against Koga, their bodies pressed together and legs entangled. Sho's body immediately responded to the sensation as Koga's breath ruffled his hair, his chest and legs hard and firm beneath Sho. He could feel the heat from Koga rising up and increasing his own body temperature, a bewitching interaction that held him still and captive like a trance. Suddenly Koga moved beneath him, his eyes opening slowly as his body shifted beneath the strange weight. Sho rolled off him like lightning, lying beside him on the bed stiffly with his eyes shut tightly. Maybe if he pretended he was asleep Koga would think he had dreamed it.

Koga rolled over towards Sho and wrapped his arm around Sho's chest, holding him tightly. Sho's heart start to pound with alarm. He needed to get out of here. This was dangerous. Visions of what-ifs started to play on the screen of his closed eyelids. What if Koga moved his leg over too? What if Sho turned his head towards Koga? What if Koga's face was right there, waiting, ready, lips parted, tender, eager— Sho's eyes flew open in rejection. Sudden shock filled him as his eyes focused on a full-length bare-chested poster of Tsuruga Ren carefully pinned to the ceiling exactly above the bed.

"WHAT THE F***!" he shouted, pushing Koga's arm off and leaping to his feet. "What the actual f*ing f***!"

Koga smiled and rolled back over, laying with his arms open on the bed. "Come back," he said softly.

"Not one chance in hell I'm getting anywhere near your bed, you freak. What the f*** is that ass doing on your ceiling?!"

Sho's crude question brought some semblance of reason to Koga's drink-addled brain. _He saw. He SAW!_ Koga sat upright, still swaying slightly but eyes open and steady on Sho.

"It's not what you think," he said carefully, trying not to slur his words.

"And what exactly am I thinking?!" Sho said, still yelling.

Koga looked at him seriously. "Well, the way you're yelling at me makes me think you believe I masturbate to that picture or something," he said, breaking into a yawn at the end. Sho's face turned bright red at the mental image that filled his mind of Koga, naked, pleasuring himself beneath— he gagged.

"Clearly," Koga said, still nonchalantly, "I just nailed it. Pardon my choice of words." He fell back on the bed and looked up at the poster. "Don't you have dreams, Fuwa? Goals?" Sho just stared at him, unable to break free of his own imagination. "That man is a goal, nothing more. A hanging to inspire me and push me so that even when I sleep I don't forget who I have to take down to get on top." Koga raised his hand up towards the poster.

What Koga said was entirely possible. Plausible, even. And yet, something about his tone of voice and the way his fingers gently stretched towards the poster made Sho's heart clench. It was the truth— but probably not all the truth. Sho felt his shoulders sag.

 _What, what the f*** why am I getting emotional over someone going gay for Tsuruga? It has nothing to do with me!_ He stared at Koga, then at the poster. Koga sat up again and looked at Sho. The singer's demeanor told Koga it hadn't worked. He didn't believe him. Time for a different tactic.

Koga stood and walked over to Sho, steadying himself by force of will. He laid a single finger on Sho's jawline, tracing down the length to his chin and pushing up to raise Sho's face and force him to meet his eyes. Sho swallowed, his eyes focused on Koga's lips as the actor spoke. "Though it has crossed my mind that if you were to ever want to try..." he trailed off, pushing up on Sho's chin slightly more as he leaned forward. He could feel Sho's shallow breaths on his face as he tilted his own face to complement the angle of Sho's.

Plastic bags dropped to the floor in the doorway, the loud sound breaking the spell as Sho leapt backwards, hitting the wall. Shoko stared open-mouthed at the two men. "You—he—he—you-" she stuttered, pointing at each of them in turn. Sho cursed and turned to leave, snatching one of the bags full of pudding as he fled.

Koga stepped forward to try and catch him. He couldn't leave, not now. He would tell—Ren would know—"Sho!" he cried out, his voice pleading.

Sho froze at the sound of his name on Koga's lips. He gripped the bag of pudding tightly. Without turning around he said quietly, "I'll help you." He fled from the apartment, slamming the door after himself.

Shoko was still staring at Koga. "You—he—" she said incoherently. "Don't—"

Koga turned to look at her, a kind smile on his face.

"Don't—" she paused again, trying to find the words. "Don't hurt him," she said, her finger finally dropping to her waist.

Koga's eyes grew slightly sad, but he didn't reply. He just smiled. Shoko furrowed her brows and turned to follow after Sho, the second bag of pudding abandoned on the floor of Koga's bedroom.


	48. Co-Stars

Co-Stars

Kyoko settled into the passenger seat of Ren's car, pleasantly exhausted after their sparring session. She was looking forward to snuggling up in her bed and getting a few hours of rest before the early morning shoot began. Adding Ren into the cast moved everything three hours earlier to provide time for fittings, make-up meetings, and crew meetings; everything had been tailored to Kijima who had different measurements and acting style. She had checked in on Kijima after Yashiro's news. His response was a large sparkling, dancing sun GIF shooting rainbows everywhere captioned: "Always happy when I hear from you!" She giggled thinking of it. Sometimes Kijima was just too silly to take seriously, but the GIF was extremely cute! Ren hadn't been nearly as impressed as she was when she showed him, scoffing and making her recite the Actor's Rules of the Heart – as if that had anything to do with rainbows and sunshine.

She glanced over at Ren. He was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel slightly out of rhythm with the song playing on the radio. _Not the song,_ she realized, smiling. _He's practicing the timing of his moves._ He was truly a wonder – and a workaholic. She leaned over and placed her hand over his fingers, forcing them gently to be still. He glanced over at her and she smiled, shaking her head. "Rest, please," she said quietly. "You've got this." Ren's face lit up in a soft smile. The priceless treasure of having her next to him, understanding him, encouraging him… never in a million years would he get used to this sweet joy.

They pulled up behind the Darumaya and sat quietly. Neither wanted to end the evening. There had been something incredibly precious about the time they'd had tonight.

"Our first date," Ren said softly, looking over at Kyoko shyly, his eyes slightly hidden behind his bangs in the darkness.

Kyoko looked at him quizzically. "Isn't it the third?"

He shook his head. "The first was Sate and Sekusha dating. The second… Haru and Mori," he paused. "It's hard to date an actress as talented as you unless she sheds all her skins, my butterfly."

Kyoko smiled, but then frowned. "Butterfly?"

"It's something my grandpa used to say. He was always looking for someone with the ability to transform into any role like magic. He called this mythical person the Eternal Butterfly," Ren stopped, reaching over to caress Kyoko's cheek with his palm. She was so small he could almost hold her entire face in his hand. His heart ached to hold her close forever, every single moment, never letting go. "Someday I want to introduce him to you myself."

"I'd like that very much," Kyoko said quietly. This was the first time Ren had spoken about any of his family to her as individuals – and especially as people he considered seeing again someday. She wanted to know more. Who was she kidding; she wanted to know everything about this beautiful man beside her. "You… feel differently about him than your parents?"

Ren blinked slowly at her, realizing his slip. His hand fell from her face as he tried to choose his words carefully. "I…" he said slowly.

"It's okay," she stopped him. "You can tell me when you're ready. I would love to meet your grandfather."

Ren smiled sadly at her. "I want you to meet all of them, you know," he said in a whisper. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them and capturing her lips in a sweet, pure kiss. Kyoko felt his hand trembling slightly on her shoulder as he kissed her gently. Something about the fragility of the moment stirred her deep inside and warm tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. One slid out and traced it's way down her cheek, catching Ren's eye as he finally pulled away. He wiped it away with a caress, bringing his finger to his lips and kissing away her tear. She smiled and bowed her head. Ren broke himself away and turned to leave, getting out to help her out of the car as well. They stood in the darkness together, Kyoko smiling up at Ren.

Suddenly Kyoko flung her arms around Ren and squeezed him in a tight bear hug. He stood still with surprise for a moment, then wrapped his long arms around her, surrounding her in his embrace. She squeezed even tighter, then slipped out under his arms and skipped backwards with a bright smile. Waving, she called out to him. "See you on set, costar!" Kyoko turned and ran into the restaurant, her heart aglow.

The next morning came too quick to be well-rested and too slow to not miss her. Ren arrived on set an hour earlier than anyone else, eager to get ready and relax with her. He grabbed his script and settled into the chair in the makeup and costuming room to wait for the artists.

Thirty minutes later a tap on his shoulder roused him from his memory work and he looked up, his professional smile ready to greet the make-up artist. Instead, golden eyes beamed at him in the mirror. His smile turned genuine and shockingly bright as he reached up and pulled her down to into a hug over his shoulder.

"Good morning Ren," she whispered in his ear. He turned and peck her cheek, ruffling her hair and she glowed with happiness.

Kyoko plopped into the chair beside him, spinning around in it. "I can't wait for today! I can't wait to see you act with Koga-san!" she squealed, kicking her feet out to spin faster. "Did you know—" she stopped, breathless.

"What?" Ren asked.

"This is the first time since _Dark Moon_ that I'll get to be on the credits with you," she said happily, "and this time with Koga-san too!" Kyoko turned to look in the mirror, thoughtful. "I wonder if you'll have the same effect on him."

"Hmm?" Ren said, watching her curiously.

"Ring-Doh," she said simply. Ren just looked at her, waiting. She smiled. "One of my goals in life is to manipulate you on film the way you pulled me along in Ring-Doh." She put her chin in her hand, resting it on her knee. "To lead with pure, overwhelming talent." Ren reached his hand over and grabbed her hand in his.

"You've already totally consumed me," he said softly. "I'm a little scared to walk in front of a camera with you, to be honest. Koga will do," he finished, chuckling softly. She smiled and stood.

"I have to go rehearse my set for the battle scene we're doing our first take for later," she said. "But just so you know—I'm very, very jealous of Koga today." She leaned over and kissed his forehead.

Sho paced across his massive bedroom. He sat on his bed, muttering to himself. He leaned backwards and stared at the ceiling – blessedly blank. "Keeping his rival up for inspiration…" he said. "WHO DOES THAT?!" He pounded his fist on the bed. "Kyoko," he said simply. "I bet Kyoko does that." It was obsessive and maniacal just like her. Sho sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. He didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to think that maybe Koga was a bad influence on him. Kyoko too! Both of them with their posters! And their meddling! And their obsession with that stupid huge man! 

_Tsuruga Ren_ , he thought ominously. Both of them were involved with that man. He clenched his hands into fists. And something was definitely not right with him.

"Koga," he said quietly. He was filming with Tsuruga today. Sho stood up. He had to try and help him see the danger, to get at least one of those two meddlesome idiots out from under Tsuruga's control. He needed get to that studio.

Koga jogged in place in the break room, trying to work out some of his nervous energy. An hour left til call. Maybe he should run through his sequences again. Maybe he should have another cup of coffee. Maybe he should— the door swung open and Kyoko stepped through. She smiled upon seeing Koga.

"I knew you would be here already, sempai! Would you work over the next scene with me?" she asked, bowing slightly as she asked. "Unless you are busy preparing for this morning, of course!"

Koga stopped jogging and considered her. "No, it would be good to have a distraction," he said honestly. She continued to place him in a hard spot. Part of him wanted to hate her, to lock her away in a house on the other side of the world from Japan — a nice house, sure, but with very secure doors, and where _he_ could never find her. The other part, pure actor, was thrilled to work alongside someone so dedicated and talented.

He turned to face her, pacing off the distance for the combinations she would execute.

"I am glad you are Momiji," he said without pausing to look at her. Kyoko blushed and bowed in embarrassment.

"Sempai, please, no need to—" she stuttered, but he interrupted her.

"You work hard. You fight hard. You act with every fiber of your being. I thought I could ignore you as one of his stupid fangirls, but the way your Momiji acted opposite Shizuma last time— you had even me drawn to you," _and I don't even like women_ , he finished in his mind. He turned to face her, his features hardening. "Do not let him overshadow you. It may hurt, but you should not get too close to him. That... will hurt worse."

Kyoko's brows furrowed. "...him?" she asked.

"Tsuruga," Koga said, his face shadowed.

Kyoko's features twisted with dismay. "He would never hurt me," she protested, her voice gentle.

"You do not know him," Koga returned. "Or the darkness he hides." Koga's face grew hard and a sad determination drew his lips downward as he stared at her. "And you are not the one to fight it."

Kyoko stiffened at his words. Her grudges had sensed long ago the depth of darkness hidden inside "Prince Charming" Tsuruga Ren. She had seen its grip on him — and been a part of his battle against it. She also knew that its existence was hidden from the vast majority of people beneath his creepy gentlemanly smile. She stared at Koga. How could he possibly know? Did he have a secret ability like the Beagle? Her supernatural sensors snuck out towards him, returning empty.

"Why do you even care?" she questioned him, genuinely confused.

"I—" Koga paused, unable to find the words.

"He's why you don't like me," Kyoko said, sudden realization dawning. "This is just like after auditions— it wasn't until you discovered my feelings..." she trailed off, still embarrassed by the memory. "...for him," she continued, braving through it, "that you shifted! What is it about Ren that you don't like?"

"... _Ren_?" Koga spat out. The sound of his name on her lips, bare of any protection, filled him with bile. She needed to be gone. _Sho_! The weekend of the MV couldn't come fast enough.

"You just need to get to know him," Kyoko continued, oblivious to the reaction Koga had to her use of Ren's name without honorifics as she spun a plan of bromance. "Anyone who really knows him can't help but love him," she said enthusiastically. "Come! Come!"

Kyoko grabbed Koga by the sleeve and dragged him out of the room. Koga's mind was reeling from her mental leaps and sudden action. "What—?" he sputtered out as he stumbled after her.

"Just trust me," she said, smiling back at him as she raced down the hallway. "Once you spend some time with him, you'll understand. I had to be forced into living with him for several weeks before I got it, but you're smarter than I am!" Kyoko grinned, then gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth. "I mean! Not living with! Acting! It was just an act— for a show— not actually living— sleeping— I mean, not sleeping— no, sleeping! We definitely slept!" she stumbling deeper and deeper into a verbal wreck as Koga's eyes grew wider and wider.

"You LIVE with him!?" he said, incredulous.

"No! Not me! She did! But not anymore— anyways, no, and we are here!" Kyoko ripped open the door to Ren's dressing room and shoved Koga inside. "Help each other get ready and make friends!" she yelled inside before running away down the hall.


	49. Hakama

Ren looked up at the sound of Kyoko's voice in time to see her disappear down the hallway. A red-faced Koga Hiromune stood in her place, backed against the wall next to the door and looking as if he was about to either run away or fall over. Ren smiled courteously at his co-star. He knew Koga professionally, having met at several annual award ceremonies and numerous benefit galas, but had never starred alongside him in a film.

"Koga Hiromune-san; an unexpected honor to see you before we meet for script reading," he said formally. "But well-timed," Ren continued, holding out his fabric belt straps. "I find myself in need of assistance."

Koga stared, his hands pressed against the wall behind him. Tsuruga Ren was standing in front of him, almost fully attired in his ronin costume. Bare-chested, with a short, free-flowing open jacket and loose, slightly cropped hakama pants, the fabric flowed perfectly around his muscular frame. Koga swallowed hard, trying to force himself to keep his eyes on Tsuruga-san's face.

"Assistance…?" he squeaked out.

Ren chuckled humbly. "I took the liberty of arriving early to prepare as much as I could so as to not hold the filming up by delaying costuming and makeup with extra prep, but…" Koga closed his eyes, pressing himself back against the wall in an attempt to keep himself an appropriate distance away from Tsuruga Ren. _If I touch him…_ Koga clenched his hands into fists. This was so very, very different from meeting in crowded rooms or watching him through a screen. His mind was racing with possibilities, closed in this small, private room. He closed his eyes, trying to force down the rising lustful thoughts from too many nights alone.

Ren's voice rang out in his ears, the smooth cadence of his speech all Koga needed to lose control. "I cannot figure out the correct wrap for this belt." Tsuruga furrowed his elegant brows, glancing down at the material in his hands. "I thought perhaps your costume may be similar and you could teach me." He held the loose ends out towards Koga, a blush creeping across his cheeks. _God, he's so perfect_ , Koga thought, his imagination running wild. _I want to make him blush all over his goddamn-_

Koga's lips felt dry suddenly and his tongue flicked out instinctively to wet them. His costume was roughly similar, but a kimono instead of hakama and jacket. "…you do not know the correct tie for a traditional hakama?"

Ren's eyes fell as he shifted his weight from one foot to another. He looked up at Koga from under his dark bangs. "…please?" Koga stared, lips parted. _Just go over and help the man. Run your hands around his waist. Feel those perfect muscles. Hold him tightly-_

He stayed carefully pressed against the wall. One move right now before he had himself under control and it could be devastating for his future with this beautiful, beautiful man. Koga closed his eyes again, trying to think of a legitimate reason to not help Tsuruga. To not touch him. To not wrap his arms around his waist, pull him in tight and kiss him senseless. Oh God, if only he could feel that--

He gritted his teeth and opened his eyes to feign ignorance, only to find a pair of dark brown, thickly lashed eyes just inches away from his own. Ren looked at him closely, concern consuming his features. He raised his hand and touched Koga's forehead gently. "Are you feverish? You're flushed, and breathing rapidly," he said quietly.

Koga shook his head mutely.

"Ah," Ren breathed. "Then, perhaps, there is another reason?" He let go of his hakama straps and the loose pants slowly slid to the floor, revealing tight black boxers. " _Oops_ ," he whispered. "I did say I needed help." His eyes glinted with a level of lust and erotic knowledge that Koga did not know could possibly be contained inside human form. Koga swallowed hard, feeling his manhood already straining against his pants. He pressed backwards against the wall. _This can't be real. This can't be real._ Too many nights staring at that damn poster, that's what this was.

Ren's mouth curved up in a wicked smile at the indecision wavering across Koga's face. "Too easy," he murmured. He licked his lips and stepped forward out of his pooled linen hakama, pinning Koga to the wall with his arms braced on either side of his face. He took a long, slow inhale breathing in Koga's scent. "But still fun," he whispered in Koga's ear, his breath making every single nerve on Koga's body come alive with shivers. Koga sank down against the wall, overwhelmed as months of wet dreams sprang to life in front of him. Ren's knee came up in between his legs, holding him up and steady and pressing against his arousal. Koga moaned, involuntarily grinding slightly against Ren's thigh.

"Oh… god…" he gasped out, embarrassed and thrilled at the same time.

Ren smiled wickedly. "I like it when you call me that," he said, licking Koga's earlobe. He moved himself to brace Koga against the wall, his large hands spreading from Koga's sides across his pectoral muscles with his thumbs pressed firmly against his nipples. Koga moaned, trying to arch forward but pinned. He started to gasp, his eyelids fluttering open and shut, already completely overwhelmed. Ren leaned down farther and sucked on Koga's lower neck, caressing his skin with his tongue as he bit down gently. Koga started to grind his hips on Ren's thigh, unable to stop himself. He gripped Ren's shoulders, his knuckles turning white with the effort of maintaining any semblance of self-control. Ren lifted and lowered his leg in slow pumping motions, accentuating Koga's movements against his flesh. Koga groaned and pressed down, the heat from their contact spreading out from his erection to fill his entire body.

Ren bit down hard on his skin, leaving a red mark on Koga's shoulder before shifting back and swiftly ripping Koga's shirt up and off over his head. Koga's hair tumbled wildly over his forehead, waves completely displaced by the rapid movement. He opened his eyes in time to see Ren begin to kneel, his strong hands sweeping down Koga's lithe, muscular frame as he dropped. Ren hooked his fingers over Koga's briefs and tugged, releasing him to spring tight and firm into the air.

Koga cried out, digging his fingernails into Ren, his entire body aflame. _How was this happening? His wildest dreams –_ "Tsuruga-san, don't—"

Ren looked up at him, his eyes fierce with desire. "No one tells me what to do," he said, his voice low and rumbling. "Especially not you." He glared at Koga as his tongue snaked out and licked the tip of Koga's manhood, making the young man shout and throw his head back. "Look at me," Ren demanded, his voice rough with lust. He gripped Koga's hips tightly, his fingernails leaving red marks in the skin. Holding Koga's eyes captive in his piercing stare, Ren slowly took inch after inch of Koga's erection into his mouth. He started to groan, a rumbling sound deep in his chest that vibrated around Koga. Koga was panting, his hands gripping and releasing Ren's shoulders, his entire body shaking with need. He started to pulse in tiny beats against Ren's mouth, a moan ripping from his own mouth as he felt the hot wetness surrounding him. _Never in my dreams…_

Ren's tongue circled the end of Koga's shaft with teasing strokes and then he released him with a wet pop. He licked his lips and stood, towering above Koga, his own manhood straining against his briefs. Koga swayed, unsteady on his feet. He knew only craving for more. "Tsuruga-san," he moaned softly. Ren's eyes grew darker as he watched Koga lost in need.

"My turn, Koga-san" he said, his voice low and meant only for Koga's ears. "…If it's not a trouble, of course." Ren smiled wickedly as he waited.

"Koga-san? If it's not a trouble, of course. Koga-san?" Ren's voice was sharper, brighter than before and Koga looked up, startled. "The lines?" Ren continued, studying Koga curiously. 

Koga blinked in confusion as Ren's hands expertly tied the loose hakama strings into their complicated knots, his costume perfectly in place. He pressed his hands hard against the cool wall, disoriented.

"…lines? Not the—the costume?" Koga replied, disoriented. _Didn't he just -- wasn't -- his costume?_

"Costume?" Ren laughed easily. "A hakama? I've worn these since I was a child for our kendo training. Ah, you're funny," he said. "No – I'd like help rehearsing our lines just before our spar scene. Yashiro-san normally helps me, but he's tied up this morning with a personal commitment. Hey, are you feeling alright?" he finished, watching Koga carefully. The actor was slightly ashen-faced as he stared back at Ren.

 _Imagined it all. Good god, I imagined it all._ He cleared his throat, desperate to escape. "Ah, so just to be clear, your belt-tie looks great." He swallowed hard, slumping forward slightly as he struggled to compose himself. This man turned him inside out so easily. He was losing his mind. 

Ren looked at him askance and gave a slight head-nod in acknowledgment. "I'll ask Kyoko about rehearsing, please do not worry about it. Until call, then."

Koga's head bobbed in agreement until he realized once again he was epically failing. "No! Don't!" he called out. _Anyone but her,_ Koga thought frantically. _Anything I have to do to keep them apart. I need to keep him here._

Ren was starting to wonder if starring alongside Koga Hiromune would actually be good for his reputation or not. He seemed much more put-together at the public events they'd met at before; not as spacey or awkward. He'd even blanked out with an odd look on his face for a few seconds right after Ren had asked for his help. Perhaps he was one of those classic cases where he transformed on camera. He slowly nodded at Koga, trying to measure his reactions.

"I…" Koga paused, trying to dig himself out of the massive hole he'd created. "I could use some mental focusing this morning as well. Please, let me have the honor of assisting you." He bowed his head slightly, his wavy hair falling forward to cover his face. Ren waved for him to stop the honorifics, giving him his own thank you in return as he reached to grab the script copies from the dressing room table.

Koga quickly rubbed his face. _Snap out of it!_ he reprimanded himself. _This is your moment!_ Ren held out a copy of the script to him, but Koga put on his best smile and waved it away. "Thank you, but I have it memorized already. Please just let me know where you would like to begin." _Good start, good. Impressive control. That was a perfect excuse to touch his hand and you don't go for it—wait WHAT THE CRAP KOGA? Come ON!_ "Actually, wait, I think they may have made revisions when you replaced Kijima-san. Please allow me to check," he said awkwardly, reaching out.

Ren's brows furrowed slightly before he smiled excessively politely and held the script out. Koga's fingers brushed his lightly as he took his copy of the script. Ren flipped to the starting page for their dialogue, trying to rationalize in his mind that no one would be #2 in Japan if they were not eminently capable.

Koga's hand felt like it was on fire. He held the script tightly, trying to disguise his trembling. "…page?" he said softly, not daring to meet Ren's eyes.

"307," Ren said absentmindedly.

Koga nodded and flipped. _Same page number; no revisions. Of course no revisions; that was just my lame-ass excuse for touching his skin. God, what a loser._ All the mental upbraiding in the world couldn't change the fact that he knew he would make up a million other excuses for a moment's contact. A billion. One for every breath for the rest of his life. Koga felt his heart racing and started unconsciously performing his breathing exercises to control it.

Ren stood and walked over to the mini fridge in his room. "Drink?" he asked, hoping Koga would say yes. The man seemed thoroughly rattled. He needed to calm him down before they stepped on set. _Unless he's always like this,_ Ren rationalized again. _I don't know him, after all._ He considered messaging Kyoko to ask but decided it wasn't worth bothering her. Koga was a professional and would handle himself appropriately.

"Ah—no," Koga said. "Ah, wait—yes." Ren rolled his eyes while his back was towards Koga. _Whatever he says first just prepare for the opposite apparently. Maybe this is how his manager deals with him?_ Ren grabbed an iced green tea and turned, holding it out to Koga. Koga stood and walked over to him, trying to smile confidently. "So, shall we start?" He could feel the room temperature begin to rise standing this close to Tsuruga. The man's physical presence was unreal. Tall, broad shouldered, thick, shiny hair, full lips, bare chest- Koga ripped open the tea to chug it and cool himself off.

Ren watched him closely, smiling politely. He sat down on the futon in the room and studied the script.

"I needed you and you weren't there," he said. Koga's head snapped up. Ren's voice had shifted down an octave, deep and rolling. Koga's pulse hammered. Why did it sound so erotic?

"I—wasn't…? Me?" he almost hiccuped.

Ren looked up at him, startled by the off-script response. Koga's face was flushed and his pupils dilated as he stared at Ren. "No—wrong spot? Your response is _I was where duty placed me. I hold no master now,_ what section are you referencing?"

Koga's blush deepened. _Shit he was reading lines._ "Of course, yes, ah—just a miscue from an earlier scene with ah, Chidori."

Ren smiled. _Chidori? Right…_

"I was where duty placed me. I hold no master now," Koga said, his voice struggling to find the right emotion. He was fighting just to keep the lust out of his voice with Ren standing there, watching him intensely, his shirt open and his eyes blazing with the passion of a truly dedicated actor. "My only tie is my own honor, my only master my will."

Ren pursed his lips. "Perhaps I'm misunderstanding our relationship in this drama. It seems from what I've read on our backstory that you should be more grieved over your absence when my character was injured. Aren't we closer than brothers? The reason you became a ronin?"

Koga swallowed. _Closer than brothers,_ he thought, trying to rein in his imagination. _If only_ … "Yes, that's correct. Let me try again." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was time to focus. "I was where _duty_ placed me," he said slowly, his voice laced with thick regret when he almost cursed out duty. "I hold no master now. My only tie is my own honor. My only master—my will."

"Better," Ren said. "I feel it now. The determination to find independence because of a past tragedy involving both of us – thank you." He put the script down. "This was helpful; I think I can manage from here."

Koga held the script tightly. "Not yet—let's read farther. We have time, yes?" He tried not to beg, but he didn't want to leave yet.

Ren checked his phone for the time. "Alright," he conceded. "If your prep schedule permits." Koga nodded enthusiastically and sat on a chair across from Ren. "Then let's continue."

Bent over their scripts, their dark hair shading their faces, the two men rehearsed their lines several times through. Each round over their emotion intensified as they let themselves embrace the characters and their relationship, memorization making the script flow as naturally as conversation between brothers. A meeting after a dark and bloody separation. Reunifying when hope of ever seeing the other was long lost. Finding brotherhood unknown and forsaken for a lone ronin. Both Ren and Koga were caught up in the complexity and joy of the scene when a knock at the door interrupted their rehearsal.

"Tsuruga-sama? Have you seen Koga-sama?" the timid voice of the costume artist called through the closed door.

"Yes, please wait. My sincere apologies; I had asked him to rehearse with me and have inconvenienced you. Please forgive me," Ren called out, standing to shake Koga's hand before the actor left. "Until the stage, then," he said, smiling professionally. Koga stared, dumbstruck. _Such a beautiful smile…_ he thought in a daze. Ren raised his eyebrows and nodded towards the door. "You should go," he whispered.

"Ah-yes! Yes," Koga affirmed, blinking rapidly. He clasped Ren's hand in both of his then tore himself away and fled out the door, startling the artist waiting in the hall for his presence.

Ren stared after him. Their rehearsal had left him puzzled but entertained. He took a while to get into character, but once he did it was smooth and incredibly enjoyable. Nothing compared to acting alongside someone truly talented. He smiled, looking down at the script. _Especially the most talented of all,_ he said, caressing the spot on the script where Momiji's name was inscribed. _My butterfly._ He adjusted his robes and headed out to the green room to await call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Koga's erotic daydream illustrated by the amazing Kyiora! SO GOOD.


	50. Ronin

Koga watched, captivated, as Ren wove his spell upon the stage. His character was shrouded in darkness as he stood on the edge of the frame, a sinister presence somehow dominating the entire village without moving, without speaking, without even being the focus of the camera. His hair had dark, thick extensions in, shading his eyes and running down his back in a ponytail loosely tied with dark leather strips. His hands were crossed over his chest, bare between the folds of his cropped black jacket; one fist clasped on top the hilt of his sword as he scrutinized the marketplace.

Women haggled and browsed the vendors' carts while children screeched and ran circles around their legs, chasing each other with sticks and playing contentedly on the sides of the square. Men stood in clusters, talking animatedly and cutting one another off mid-sentence in their debates.

He took a step forward, somehow bringing the feeling of silence and oppression with him as he moved. His focused, straight path across the marketplace blazed like a scar through the vibrant town. He spoke to no one, made eye contact with no one, and bumped against no one. Yet the town itself stilled around him as if a supernatural force hushed their lifeblood. He reached a blacksmith's hut and stopped, examining the man. The smith stood tall, trying to hold his head high as a quaver spread through his normally still hands. The ronin unsheathed his sword in a fluid motion, making the smith step back in alarm, raising his hands.

"Sharpen it," the ronin said, his voice low like thunder. "Sir."

The smith stood frozen for a moment, then bowed his head and indicated for the ronin to lay down his sword.

"I'll wait," the ronin growled, moving to the side to stand and watch. The town slowly came back to life as he stilled once more, but with a noticeable breach of emptiness around the smithy. With a grunt, the smith finished his work. The ronin turned, threw a coin on the table, and held his sword up glinting in the sun to examine. He nodded once in respect, then sheathed it and disappeared into the woods.

"CUT," Director Morizumi said, his voice laced with excitement. Kuresaki-sama was going to love this. "Next scene."

Koga stepped forward with a deep breath. The village backdrop was removed, revealing lush forest scenery. In the center was a small campsite, made to look like it had been used the night before. He moved to stand near the fire, assuming the position of being mid-preparation for a meal. Carefully, Koga smoothed his silvery kimono pleats and patted his long, silky ponytail. He shifted his sword slightly in the belt, finding the niche it rested in on his hip. All must be perfect.

"ACTION," Morizumi said softly.

Shizuma turned to toss herbs into the cooking pot suspended over the fire, his brows drawn together in thought. He was alone; Momiji had been sent out to perform reconnaissance on the next village and Chidori left with a local farmer couple until it was safe. She'd protested greatly, throwing a fit over being left behind, but the danger was simply too great. Her swordsmanship was increasing well, especially for a woman of noble birth, but she still lacked enough ability to stand in a fight and not be a burden. _Women_ , Shizuma thought. He excluded Momiji from that category. She was different—a woman, but _other_. More. And somehow, less. He shook his head; unnecessary to dwell on these things.

Shizuma bent to stir the pot. He stilled suddenly, his hand outstretched, as an unusual noise in the forest before him caught his attention. Breathing deeply, Shizuma continued his action smoothly as if nothing was amiss but every nerve was on fire, anticipating danger.

A bird cried overhead. Shizuma straightened, adjusting his sleeves to lay perfectly over his wrists. Waiting.

A breeze from the east sifted through his hair and Shizuma unsheathed his sword, spinning to face the attackers – then twisted, rapidly shifting his weight to throw down his sword and block an unexpected strike from the opposite side. Shizuma's sword clanging against his opponent; he spun back off the impact, his feet digging into the sandy dirt. He pushed off and sprang forward with a mighty leap, his face still and calm as he flew towards the attacker. The man leapt and spun, his feet flying forward in a powerful whirling kick. He collided with Shizuma mid-air, silver and black robes fluttering, the grace of the cloth belying the deadly power hidden in the muscles of the men beneath.

The samurais ricocheted backwards off each other with a grunt from Shizuma and perfect silence from the other. Shizuma clasped a tree and steadied himself before launching forward with a yell, his sword held up at an angle to cut in a sweeping slice. The dark ronin touched down lightly and stood still, waiting, his sword still sheathed. Shizuma leapt and twisted last second, changing the direction of his cut immediately before impact. The dark ronin leaned backwards at an impossible angle, holding himself up by brute strength, diving under the cut then pushing up with his hands and springing over Shizuma's next sweeping attack to flip over his enemy. He landed behind Shizuma, a menacing grin spreading over his features. Shizuma turned, rage starting to fill him. He held his sword up in front of his face, his eyes sharp beneath his tousled hair.

The pair paused for a breath. The dark ronin raised his hand and beckoned at Shizuma, who growled and pushed off to run at him, launching into a fury of attacks. His sword moved with such intense speed that it whistled and sang as it sliced through the air. The ronin seemed to dance around his moves, his sword still sheathed, that demonic grin the only thing clearly visible beneath his loose, thick bangs. Suddenly he lunged forward with immense speed, spotting the tiniest of cracks in Shizuma's attack. He spun and pushed straight past Shizuma's sword, beating it out of the way with a flat palm tap to the side of the blade as it arced past him. He grabbed Shizuma around the back of the neck with one hand, pinning him against his chest, the other gripping Shizuma's sword hand by the wrist and immobilizing his sword.

Shizuma panted, eyes wide with pent fury as he wrestled against the ronin's hold. He moved to attack him with his knee but the dark ronin shifted his weight and threw his own knee between Shizuma's legs, preventing movement. He waited a beat, enjoying the feeling of completely capturing the powerful samurai by sheer brute force. Shizuma's muscles strained against his grip, the men's hands slowly moving where the ronin clutched Shizuma's sword hand, a slow dance of aggression and force. He pressed down on the pressure points at the sides of Shizuma's neck, making Shizuma clench his teeth against the pain.

The ronin leaned in, his unkempt hair brushing against Shizuma's jawbone. "Shizuma," he spoke. One word. One name. Rumbling out between his lips like some mix of curse and summoning. Shizuma twitched, his mind spinning.

"No!" he gasped. He redoubled his efforts to break free, his arm muscles bulging as he pushed against the ronin's grip.

The dark ronin grinned sadistically. "You remember," he said darkly. "Good." He shoved Shizuma away and drew his sword finally, brushing back his bangs as he waited for the samurai to regain his balance.

Shizuma stared at the ronin. A thick scar laced across the left side of his face, just missing his dark brown eye. His features – once so pure, full of laughter and hope, running rampant through Shizuma's early memories – were haunted by years of grief and hardship. Deep circles under the piercing brown eyes, frown lines marring his smooth forehead, stubble across his strong jaw. And the scar, a silvery jagged line stretching from his eyebrow across his temple and down the side of his cheek like the track of a bear's claw.

"Rusu," Shizuma breathed.

Rusu grinned like a wildcat and launched himself at Shizuma, sword whistling. The samurai clashed, swords ringing, beating against one another in furious combat. Rusu hammered at Shizuma, beating him backwards with the violence of his attacks. Again and again he spun, slashed, struck out—the forest air echoed with their wild combat. Shizuma was breathing heavily, his mind whirling, struggling to focus on the fight when every instinct screamed at him to stop, to run at Rusu, to do whatever he needed to not hurt him, to hear him; _he was here._

"Alive!" he gasped out.

"No thanks to you," Rusu snarled, doubling the weight behind his attacks. Shizuma's arms gave out beneath the fury of a downward strike and he gasped as his sword flew out of his hands. He flipped backwards and up, launching himself gracefully into the tangled forest of bamboo and brush. Flitting through the shadows, Shizuma tried to plan as he ran. He dodged from shadow to shadow, his silver kimono flashing briefly in the spots of sunlight as he ran. He didn't hear footsteps behind him, but that meant nothing. Rusu could be anywhere.

Shizuma suddenly stopped, pivoting and springing into a full front flip just in time to avoid a sword strike as it lashed out from the darkness beside him.

"Stop—" he cried out. "Rusu!" Shizuma landed and ran up the side of a large boulder, leaping off and flying across a small clearing to land crouched in the center of the daylight. _Quickly, say it—stop him—_ "I did not know!"

He heard a snarl from the edge of the woods, in the shadows. "You lie."

"You are my master!" Shizuma yelled, his hands gripping the ground as his vision darted from darkness to darkness, trying to located Rusu. "I would never betray you!"

"You lie." Rusu's voice repeated, threatening, coming from the opposite edge of the clearing.

"Listen to me!" Shizuma screamed, desperate. His friend—his mentor—his reason for being who he was, his reason for cutting his bonds and leaving everything he knew, the one who made him and shaped him and called him— _he was alive!_

Rusu stalked out of the darkness. He stood, sword raised to attack, eyes filled with suppressed rage.


	51. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lotus in the Mire

_Lotus in the Mire: Ten Years Earlier_

Shizuma leaned back on his hands, gingerly dipping his feet into the ice cold mountain stream. His muscles throbbed from the long days of training, a pleasant ache that reminded him there was purpose for his life. He let his head hang back, his long, dark hair trailing on the ground in loose waves. A pair of dark blue hakama pants paced back and forth in his upside-down field of vision. Shizuma smiled and sighed in exasperation.

"You are as tired as I am, master," he said with a smirk. "Or even more so, being ever so ancient."

Rusu chucked a pinecone at Shizuma, hitting him directly between the eyes without missing a beat in his rapid pacing.

"Rusu-sama, sit," Shizuma said, patting the ground next to him. "The water is the perfect relief for muscle aches."

Rusu threw up his hands in the air as he scoffed at the younger man. "Sit? Sit!? How am I supposed to sit once you tell me these things!"

Shizuma sighed. Perhaps it had been a mistake to confide in Rusu-sama after all. He had craved the release of someone, anyone, knowing, and Rusu-sama was the only person he could trust with such a dangerous secret. He furrowed his brow against the intensity of the ache starting to form in his heart. "I am sorry, Rusu-sama" he said softly.

"No!" Rusu roared, halting his restless movement. "Not you! It is not you who needs to apologize," he said, his eyes blazing as he shook his fist at the voiceless forest surrounding them. He stalked over to Shizuma and squatted suddenly behind him, wrapping his arms around Shizuma's chest. Shizuma blustered and tried to move away, but Rusu grabbed his kimono and pulled the front open wide. Small raw burns etched strange patterns across the samurai's pale skin. Shizuma snarled in disgust and tried to shove Rusu away, struggling to cover the wounds, to hide them and hide the shame.

"Never you," Rusu said tenderly, his head falling to rest lightly on Shizuma's shoulder as he remained squatting behind Shizuma's back. "The bastard needs to die."

"Rusu-sama, you must not say such things. He is our sovereign lord," Shizuma said quietly. "We are his servants. If I displease him, should he not…" Shizuma trailed off, unable to bring himself to fully justify the actions of the man to whom he had sworn lifelong allegiance. Every moment in that house he lived with the tang of rancid fear. Every corner could hide a summons, a notice that the lord was in a foul mood and required his _therapy_. Shizuma shuddered, feeling a clammy sweat breaking out on his skin as he tried to suppress the memories of the lord's so-called therapy sessions, venting his rage and frustration on Shizuma's young body.

Rusu's hands started to run up and down Shizuma's arms, massaging away the tension. His head still buried in Shizuma's shoulder, he murmured, "Freedom."

Shizuma barked out an incredulous laugh. "Nothing short of killing him would ever free us from his reach!"

"Exactly," Rusu said coldly. "Him and every single member of his family." Shizuma paled, turning to stare at Rusu. Rusu took his face in his large, battle-scarred hands and pulled him in close, touching his forehead to Shizuma's. He held him still, both men with their eyes closed, allowing their breath to mingle as this simple gesture reaffirmed their sworn brotherhood.

"I have a plan," Rusu whispered.

One month later, the new moon provided perfect coverage in the dense darkness shrouding the forest. Rusu and Shizuma crouched in the lower branches of a sturdy pine tree within earshot of the lord's pavilion. A slender, black-clothed female ninja joined them on a branch opposite, silent and still. Her attention shifted between Shizuma and the manor house, her bright golden eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of danger. She was obviously tense; nervous energy radiated out from her small body. Shizuma reached over and laid his hand on her head, startling her. He smiled gently and nodded, reassuring her without words that he would watch over her.

This was the night. Shizuma turned to Rusu, the confidence he'd shown Momiji flickering to reveal a hidden hesitation to his mentor.

Rusu's eyes grew hard and bright behind his dark face mask. He whispered one word to Shizuma before silently dropping out of the tree and running to his attack position on the opposite side of the guard house. _Freedom._

Shizuma counted his heartbeats until he reached their prearranged timing, 500 seconds. Rusu was to enter the guard quarters and disable or kill the forces. One man was to be allowed to live long enough to call an alarm, drawing the main bodyguards out and forcing the lord into his safe room. Shizuma knew the so-called "safe room" intimately; it's privacy and security made it the ideal place for any personal _entertainment_ the lord wished to keep out of public knowledge. He pushed his fingertips through the very edge of the chest folds of his black kimono, touching the scar nearest his heart. _Freedom._

As one, Shizuma and Momiji dropped out of the tree like falling stars. They hit the ground noiselessly and immediately sprang up to run for the manor house. Shizuma braced himself three steps before the wall, springing up and forwards with his powerful leg muscles. He catapulted up, latching his fingertips into the creases of the stonework the moment of impact, pushing upwards with his toes to finish the ascent. Without pausing, he slid over the top of the wall and dropped into the flickering torchlight of the garden. Momiji landed gracefully beside him. A single look to confirm plans and the two disappeared into the lush garden, slinking from shadow to shadow.

A lone guard stood at the stairway into the main house, watching the private gardens indolently. A shout from inside roused him. He turned, shock transforming his features, and ran into the house gripping his lance.

 _Rusu_ , Shizuma thought. He mentally recited a prayer for his mentor's safety as he raced into the breach the guard left, clawing his way up the side of the building to perch on the roof. Momiji waited below, a hidden lookout behind the aralia tree. _30 paces in, turn south. 40 paces forward, turn east twelve paces._ He retraced the pattern of the hallways inside from above, finding the secret room. A row of half-height papered windows lay just under the roofline, the only provision of natural light into the dark room.

Shizuma knew he was there. He could _feel_ his presence. He took a breath, closing his eyes. His next move set the entire course of his life. If a samurai slew his lord, there was no return. No return to status. No return to community. To civilization. To home.

_Freedom._

If he did not kill his lord, he would never be free.

If he did not kill his lord… Rusu would die.

Shizuma gripped the edge of the roof tiles and flipped himself over, crashing feet-first through the paper windows. He landed with a roll, instinctively angling his body towards the sound of the sharp intake of breath he'd heard as his body entered the room from above. His hands moved on their own accord to draw out the double swords criss-crossed on his back as he sprang up from the roll, slicing around and down - and through. A gargled cry sounded in front of him. Shizuma's eyes adjusted to the murkiness in the room to see his former lord kneeling before him, clutching at his throat, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. His chest heaving, Shizuma watched as the man's eyes started to roll back in his head. He raised his foot and pushed, kicking the lord over to lie in a messy heap.

"Lord-sama?" a voice called from outside, alerted by the sound of the body's thump. Shizuma's head ripped up in alarm. He sprang over to the wall, his heart racing with adrenaline over the murder he'd just committed. _No lord. No lord. No lord,_ his thoughts echoed. The door opened and Shizuma leaped at the entryway, his sword raised to kill - only to freeze mid-strike when he recognized the old chamberlain of the house.

The man's eyes widened in horror at the scene before him. He stumbled, turning to flee down the hallway. Shizuma hesitated - the man was innocent, he couldn't kill him. He had no part in this! _But Rusu!_ Shizuma dashed out the door, determined to immobilize and silence the chamberlain. His hesitation cost him; the chamberlain reached the corner and flung wide the door, screaming in terror and warning. The manor erupted into chaos. Shizuma ducked into an empty room, shutting the door behind him and racing for the window out to the garden as footsteps clattered down the hallway towards the lord's inner room.

He burst through to find Momiji surrounded by guards, her twin blades whipping through the air, slicing as she spun to fend off the attacks. One lance slid through her defense, nicking her shoulder. She neither cried out nor slowed, pivoting to slash the lance-bearer across the chest, pushing off the balls of her feet to flip over his falling body and race away from the cluster of enemies. Shizuma called out to her sharply; her eyes met his and she nodded. The two flew across the garden, their feet barely touching the ground as they leapt and spun over the natural barriers. A tall pine tree stood near one wall and they vaulted into it, shimmying up the branches and over the wall.

Three horses waited nervously in the darkness. Shizuma and Momiji vaulted on to the closest two, leaving one for Rusu. "He will meet us at the cave," Shizuma murmured to himself, spurring his horse and racing to their appointed meeting location.

Three days passed. Momiji foraged and hunted while Shizuma watched the town in disguise, waiting for Rusu. _What is keeping him?_ He kept close guard on the apothecary and doctor, looking for clues Rusu was injured. Each day Shizuma became more and more tightly wound.

"One day, for wisdom," he muttered to himself. "Two days, for caution. Three days…" he trailed off. His mentor had reasons for waiting - throwing off their trackers, casting aside suspicion, separating himself and Shizuma from theories of conspiracy. _But three days…_ He made his way back slowly to the cave to find Momiji waiting for him, her eyes haunted.

"Momiji-chan?" he questioned, fearful.

She didn't speak, just held forth a black kimono in trembling hands. Shizuma grabbed it from her and held it out in the daylight.

A long, jagged tear crusted with blood cut across the center of the kimono right at abdomen level.

" _Hara-kiri_ ," Momiji whispered, her voice sounding like the cry of a mourner.

Shizuma felt like he was exploding from the inside out. His ears were filled with the sound of his own blood rushing, his head pounding with pressure, his hands gripping and twisting the cloth as a low keening noise burst forth from his chest. He sank, unable to hold himself against the force of loss pressing him down. A low, long wail echoed through the forest as he clutched the kimono to his chest.

_Present Day_

"You died," Shizuma gasped, his voice breaking.

"You should have known better," Rusu growled.

"I found your kimono! Torn and covered in blood," Shizuma pleaded, his eyes filling with tears as he remembered the moment the anguish of separation lanced through him. "I waited at our meeting place for three days... " he trailed off, pushing himself up to stand. "I waited for you." Shizuma's eyes were tender as he stared at Rusu. "Where were you?"

Rusu spat, his face twisted with the pain of the memories. "Where I was… doesn't matter," he said fiercely. "I needed you, and you weren't there." Rusu raised his sword, his stance firming as he glared at Shizuma. The searing pain of abandonment crept through him again as he remembered staggering, cold, alone, his face torn and wounded, determined to make it to the cave to find Shizuma. Only to find it empty. He had collapsed against the cave wall in complete exhaustion of body and soul. _Everything gone_. _Life, health, honor... Brotherhood._ He was alone.

"I was where _duty_ placed me. I hold no master now," Koga said, his voice thick with sorrow as he begged Rusu with his eyes to understand. "My only tie is my own honor… my only master my will." The words came out thick and sluggish as he looked at his former master. He had longed for this moment, but never in his dreams had it been filled with such brokenness. "It was him… and you," Shizuma said, almost breathless. "And now, it is nothing. I am free. We are both free."

Rusu's sword dropped slightly as Shizuma's words sank in. Shizuma took a step towards him, then another, slowly, moving forward to close the distance, watching Rusu hopefully. Rusu remained perfectly still as if frozen.

Shizuma reached his hand out, palm up and empty. "Come with me," he said. "But not to lead or to save. Just… to belong."

Rusu twitched at the word "belong." His sword quivered in the air, it's blade inches from Shizuma's neck. He wanted answers. He wanted revenge. He wanted closure. Damn it, he wanted _home._

His blade fell clattering to the ground out of his slackened grip. His eyes focused as he looked at Shizuma, a deep pain and hollowness filling them. Shizuma closed the distance between them and gripped Rusu tightly around the back of his head, drawing him forward to press his forehead against Rusu's just as Rusu had held him so many years ago. The two men stood in the clearing, jaws gritted against the rising emotion, breaths mingling as each allowed the other to silently ask and receive forgiveness.

"CUT," Morizumu said, his voice cutting through the moment like a bizarre knife. He sat slack-jawed as he watched the two actors take a deep breath and then slowly separate. "Japan's top two indeed," he crowed, "and on MY show!" With a whoop he shoved himself out of his Director's chair and barreled over to slap both Koga and Ren on the back. The men smiled at each other and bowed slightly, thanking the director for his guidance.

In the shadows, Fuwa Sho stood immobile, his eyes brimmed with tears. _Witchcraft_ , he thought as he stared at Koga. He had felt emotions he'd never allowed himself to experience as he stood there in the shadows, unseen, watching Koga become Shizuma. A rush of adrenaline as the man launched himself into battle. Sorrow at the loss of his friend. Strangling hope and confusion as he wrestled with seeing his sworn brother. And… something deep and visceral seeing the two twined together, faces too damn close, Tsuruga's breath on his face, Koga's hand on his neck- Sho scoffed, rubbing his own neck where Koga's hand had rested on Tsuruga. "Witchcraft," he said softly.

"Shotaro?" a familiar voice called in disbelief.

"F* it!" Sho shouted. "I told you not to call me that!"

Kyoko walked over to him in full Momiji costume, the tight black ninja suit showing off her perfect figure. Sho scowled at her incredulous face. "What? Are you brain dead from all those stupid flips? Like some kind of circus animal or something," he pouted.

"No, it's not that, it's…" Kyoko trailed off, looking Sho up and down with wide eyes. Suddenly she burst out laughing. "It's-" she couldn't catch her breath long enough to speak and just gestured at him. Sho's face turned red with embarrassment and anger. He was about to stalk over and grab her when she squeaked out her sentence, "It's… your _outfit!_ " Kyoko dissolved into tears of laughter, clutching her stomach. Sho stood straighter, running his hand through his slicked-back hair.

"A stupid low-class talento like you wouldn't know style when you saw it, bargain-bin girl," he sneered.

Kyoko didn't even bother to reply, just kept pointing and laughing. Her peals of joy caught Ren's attention. He excused himself from the discussion with Koga and Morizumi-san about the next film sequence to walk over and see the cause of her mirth. His pace increased to rocket speed when he recognized the man she stood near.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyiora spoiling us again with Rusu art!!!


	52. Pompadour

"And your HAIR!" Kyoko shrieked, pointing at Sho and laughing maniacally. "What did you do to your _hair?_ "

Sho smoothed the sides of his hair nervously. _God, why is she so f*ing loud_ , he thought. He watched Koga out of the corner of his eye as the actor conversed with Morizumi-san. "It's called a pompadour, k? StooOooOoOoopid."

Kyoko almost fell over in pure glee. "A- a- a-" She couldn't catch her breath. "BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! BAAAAHAHAHAHA!" Kyoko's grudges flew around her brain in complete and total ecstasy. It could not possibly get better than this. _Wait- yes it could._ "Pudding-" she gasped out. "Someone- get this manchild- some- bahahahaha- pudding!"

Sho cursed, turning towards Kyoko with his hands raised to clasp over her mouth and stop the goddam embarrassment pouring out, but two massive hands clamped around his wrists like iron vises before he even completed his turn. Sho glared at the interceptor ferociously only to find himself staring down a demonic demigod. Tsuruga's eyes burned beneath his tousled Rusu hairstyle, a dark oppression seeping out around him magnified by the slightly tattered black samurai robes he was garbed in. His muscles flexed across his bare chest as he held Sho's hands apart. The look on his face dared Sho to risk death by making any sudden movements.

"Fuwa-san," the demon lord said quietly, his voice made even more terrifying by it's calm timbre. "How… nice."

Sho swallowed hard, forcing a sneer back on his face. He jerked his arms, trying to pull them out of Tsuruga's grip. Kyoko wiped her tears away and saw the sudden danger, her laughter finally subsiding.

"Ren," she said calmly, a smile brimming across her face. "He's just being stupid."

"Mmmm," Ren murmured, letting Sho's hands drop. "What's that quote… _Stupid is as stupid does_." Sho looked blankly at Tsuruga, not recognizing the reference. Ren just grinned sadistically at him, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Stay away from her," he said darkly. "Or I will _hurt you_." He bit off the last two words like a curse, his teeth gritted together with the effort of his restraint. Fuwa felt a cold shiver creep down his spine as Tsuruga pulled back, fixing him with his menacing glare before turning to face Kyoko, transforming completely in the space of the quarter-turn.

"Kyoko," he said, his voice warm and gentle. "Let's go."

Kyoko watched Sho closely, examining his reaction for signs Ren had gone too far. Sho bristled beneath her unwanted concern and stuck his tongue out at her. It was ridiculously immature, but with the rest of his extremities still paralyzed by fear he had no other recourse. As the pair strolled off, Sho's shoulders shuddered slightly and he stumbled forward. He watched Kyoko's back receding anxiously. _Is it really alright to let her be with that beast?_ He turned to look at Koga, who stood listening to Morizumi's exuberance, his eyes also fixated on the pair leaving. Sho grimaced. He had a twisting feeling deep in his gut that no good would come out of being near Tsuruga Ren. If Kyoko wouldn't listen to him, maybe Koga would. He took a deep breath and fixed his hair, checking the style in the reflection of his phone screen. _Steady,_ he told himself. He looked back up and walked over to go talk to Koga.

"That _darkness_! Koga-san, did you ever in a million years imagine Tsuruga-san was capable of such rich depth of darkness!" Morizumi's eyes almost rolled back in his head from the pleasure of seeing Japan's heartthrob dive into his character. "And to think I almost settled on Kijima-san- no offense to our comrade, of course, but THIS! This was gold. Your chemistry on set, the way you played off and intensified one another! I was not expecting Shizuma to come out feeling this pure; we need to capitalize on it - Kasama-san! Ey, Kasama-san! The script team, gather them!" Morizimi bustled off to harangue his assistants, arms waving passionately as his imagination ran with the possibilities handed to him by the samurai pair.

Koga stood still and silent, fiddling with the edge of his kimono as he watched Ren leave with Kyoko. He felt more than saw Fuwa arrive at his side. "It's hard," he said softly, not looking at the singer or considering the implications of his words. "To be this close and yet so far."

Sho's eyes contracted with hurt as he processed Koga's words. He just watched the actor, feeling a distance growing between them that he knew wouldn't close even if he reached his hand out just _so_ and drew him in for a long, close hug. Holding him tight as he rubbed away the aches and memories and longings that held him captive to the darkness, shielding him from that demon's influence- _no, wait._ Sho shook his head. _Too much. Friends. Friends._ He mentally tried to erect a boundary between them. _Friends_. _Right now, a friend would…?_ Sho frowned, perplexed.

He didn't know.

It hit him like a ton of bricks. He didn't know what on earth a friend would do in this situation. The vast emptiness of his life gaped before him as the realization flooded him that he had no one, not one single person, that he could count as a friend. The closest was probably Shoko, and she was his manager and someone he'd f*ed. Sho felt himself start to panic. He reached out for Koga and gripped the sleeve of Koga's kimino, but the other man didn't even turn to look at him.

"Do you even know what it's like, Sho-kun?" Koga murmured, staring at the door Ren had left through. "Today… he held me. His hand touched my skin. His forehead against mine. He filled my vision and consumed my thoughts. And just like that, he's gone. It's all an act for one of us." Koga gagged. "I feel sick." He brushed off Sho's hand and turned to go, leaving Sho standing alone in the middle of the stage, his arm outstretched.

"I think… I think I do," he said quietly to himself as he watched Koga leave.

Down the hall, Kyoko ran her free hand up and down Ren's arm as they walked, calming him with her gentle strokes.

"I hate him," he said simply, no further explanation needed.

"Mmmm," Kyoko nodded. "I used to." Ren looked at her sharply, suspicious. She smiled a genuine and loving smile at him. "He just seems… immature now." It wasn't quite the right word, but she couldn't put her finger on what exactly had changed in Sho. "There's something vulnerable about him that wasn't there before," she continued, pondering her childhood ex-friend. "And it makes me able to pity him instead of hate him." She turned to look at Ren earnestly. "Besides, who could get too worked up about a man who shows up purposefully sporting a hairstyle that he willingly labels a _pompadour_?" She dissolved into laughter again, the prideful look on Sho's face as he groomed his new haircut filling her with perfect mirth. "It suits him," she finished. "No, really. It works for his face shape- and brings to the surface just exactly how self-obsessed he is!" At that, Ren and Kyoko both laughed together. He cupped her face in his hands, his mirth brought not by Sho's appearance but by the genuine joy he saw fill her being where once there had been only rage and vengeance.

"We got to do it," he said, studying her face and making a mental note to remember this day. "Our first time on set together, as a couple." Kyoko blushed ferociously at the word _couple_ , but nodded in exuberant agreement.

"It was fantastic! I hope Morizumi is able to write in more scenes for you! Lots of fight scenes too," she said, crouching into an alert stance, mocking punches and kicks as she talked. "Momiji and Rusu, side-by-side, destroying the world of evil!"

Ren laughed heartily, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her tightly against him. "You, my fierce ninja princess, are the most amazing creature," he whispered in her ear. Kyoko beamed through her blush, her mind so fixated on the possibilities of future scripts Morizumi could be crafting that she didn't register his approach until his soft, full lips connected with hers and her brain exploded with fireworks. Kyoko gasped in surprise, her mouth dropping open with the sudden intake of breath. Ren took full advantage, consuming her mouth with his lips and darting his tongue into her mouth to trace and tangle with hers. Kyoko shuddered, then let the glorious sensations of his closeness and heat take over her as she melted into his arms, embracing him and returning his kiss with passion. Her hands traced shyly over his bare chest as he pressed her back against the wall, his tongue circling hers and making her moan softly.

*Click*

The sound of a camera shutter registered deep in their minds. Ren sprang back off Kyoko and she flushed, turning to face the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: SEX GOD SAMURAI STRIKES AGAIN. Also, Sho in pompadour a la Brendon Urie, who's all about it? *raises hand eagerly* Poor Sho, Koga hasn't even looked at him yet. Ch dedicated to kyiora because RENGA FAN ART! ERMAHWERD. I'm still freaking out about it. The talent! Also, lemony side fic for RenKyo this ch uploaded into EMYM: Makes Me Want You!


	53. Stupid-Sho

Morizumi clapped in pure ecstasy as he looked at the photo on his phone. "Yes! Yes!" he pumped his fist, walking towards the red-faced actors. Kyoko tried to run away at the speed of light but Ren's grip on her wrist and her instinctive inability to offend a senior kept her rooted to the spot, dropping a deep bow of apology instead.

"Director-sama, I am so sorr-" she began, but Morizumi cut her off in his excitement.

"This is exactly the inspiration I needed! Love rivals! Momiji's true soulmate! Rusu, back from the dead, stealing - potentially - should he actually? Is Momiji actually destined for Shizuma, or can we-" the Director made a pleasantly puzzled face, waved at them absentmindedly, and then rushed off yelling for Kasama-san again.

Ren took a deep breath and turned to look down at Kyoko, hugging her into his side. He exhaled deeply. It seemed like their secret was still safe, at least as long as the Director stayed in la-la-script-writing-land. "I'll go talk to him. We can play it off as experimenting with the roles if we have to," he said quietly. Kyoko gently squeezed his hand where it rested on her hip, smiling up at him.

"I'm not worried," she said earnestly. "Morizumi-san would never release anything without asking first. He's an honorable man, even if he is a bit excitable. But… I did want to talk to you about someone," she said, thinking back to Koga's warnings before filming. "How well do you know Koga-san?"

Ren knit his brows in slight surprise at the sudden change of subject. "Not very well, I'm afraid. You probably know him better than I do. This is the first time we've acted together on-screen, so most of our interactions have been at large publicity events where every word is carefully scrutinized. I wouldn't say I have had any truly genuine interactions with him until today," he paused, his eyes glinting mischievously at her, "when a certain someone threw him by force into my dressing room."

"Tch," Kyoko tsked at him, dismissing his allegations. "I think he misunderstands you, Ren." She looked up at him with concern. "Did you get to clarify things with him when he visited before filming?"

"Clarify? I didn't even know there was an issue," Ren said honestly. "We just rehearsed our lines."

Kyoko rolled her eyes at him. _Men_. "Take him out for drinks tonight," she said. "To celebrate the successful first take." She smoothed Ren's costume, her face softening. "I don't want anyone to misunderstand your goodness," she said softly. "They would miss out on so much."

Ren's heart felt warm and tight as he looked down at her. "My goodness…?" he echoed, letting her vision of him sink down into the uncertain depths of Kuon. "Alright," he said gently. "I'll go find him. But just one or two drinks - wait for me, okay? I want to celebrate with you as well tonight." Kyoko nodded in promise and waved him away with a smile.

Ren stopped by Morizumi's office first, where the director sat furiously scribbling. "Ah, Tsuruga-san, perfect- did you see Kasama-san on your way in? No, no, never mind, the man's a pain always blabbering about deadlines and revisions. Look at this picture!" he held his phone out to Ren, his face aglow. "LOOK at the chemistry! I had no idea Mogami-kun could make such an expression." He grinned happily. "Yes, Momiji's love life will take an interesting turn indeed if I can get these ideas through the production team."

Ren smiled politely, gripping his hands together tightly to avoid grabbing the phone away from the director. He definitely could not allow him to leak that photo so soon after the Sex God headlines. He also _definitely_ could not allow him to leave with that photo without sending Ren a copy. Preferably of a high enough resolution to be blown up life-size.

"Very good ideas, sir; I'm sure Mogami-san will be happy to hear her role expansion. However, I was wondering if you could keep the source of this brainstorm ah… private?" Ren smiled his best and brightest gentlemanly smile. Morizumi shielded his eyes from the glare, sitting back in his chair.

"Of course, Tsuruga-san, of course. It wouldn't do to spoil the hype concerning the mystery ronin lover, anyways- bad for publicity to reveal everything beforehand!"

Ren sighed in relief. "Yes, sir. And then the credit will go fully where it is due, after all," he continued, a peace-maker's smile on his face. "To your creativity and ingenuity."

Morizumi beamed. "Ah-hah! Just so! In fact," he said, nodding as he made a decision. "I'll just go ahead and delete this photo now to avoid any potential leaks."

Ren smiled brightly. "Wonderful. But, ah, before you do - perhaps you could send me a copy? Purely to reinforce the concept you've grasped in my mind prior to rehearsal, of course."

Morizumi winked at him. "Of course, of course," he said jovially, forwarding the image to Ren before showing him the confirmation to delete. Morizumi genuinely assured Ren he would respect their privacy. "But once you go public," he said, grinning, "All bets are off."

Ren bowed in thanks and excused himself, immediately unlocking his phone to find and save the image as her contact icon. He whistled merrily to himself as he walked over to Koga's dressing room and knocked on the door. "Koga-san? Are you free tonight?"

Koga almost knocked over his chair with the force with which he stood. He'd been sitting with his head in his hands, trying to clear the images from the day from his mind. It wasn't working. No matter how hard his consciousness fought with reason and logic that lusting after Tsuruga Ren, a confirmed straight man currently in a secret relationship with their mutual costar, was a very, very bad idea it took just a flash of memory of the way Tsuruga's large, cool palm felt against his chest to wipe all resolution away and stir pure, desperate need.

"Tsuruga-san?" Koga called out in shock.

"Yes," Tsuruga answered. "I'd like to celebrate our first collaboration. Thanks to your hard work, today went exceptionally well. Care to join me for a drink?" He had plastered a smile on his face as he chatted through the door. _Please_ _say_ _no_ , he flung at the door. _Set me free to run back to Kyoko_.

Koga felt his heart hammering in his chest. _This wasn't real._ He turned to look at his disheveled image in the mirror, his hair askew from the long hours under his Shizuma wig. He pinched his cheek hard. His skin turned red and stung from the swift pinch. _Definitely real._

"Koga-san?" Tsuruga called again. _If he doesn't answer in 30 seconds, I'm taking it as a firm no and leaving. 30-29-28-27-26-_

"Yes! Yes, sorry, yes! I'm free. I'll be right out, just let me change-" Koga cried through the door.

 _Damn._ "No rush, I'm still in my Rusu costume," Ren said placatingly. "Meet outside in 15."

Koga nodded, then realized Ren couldn't see him. He ran for the door and pulled it open swiftly. "Yes! Sounds good!" he said, breathless as he confirmed with his own eyes it was indeed, beyond all counts, Tsuruga Ren asking him out for a drink. He smiled giddily and shut the door, leaning against it before rushing to get changed.

Ren stood in the hallway uneasily. How was this man such an oddball off stage and yet so driven and talented on? An entire conversation through the door only to rip it open last minute just to smile strangely and close it again? Ren shrugged a _meh_ and walked down the hall to his own dressing room, determined to fulfill Kyoko's wish of "making nice" with Koga before racing back into her arms as quickly as possible.

Kyoko smiled when she read Ren's text that Koga had accepted his invitation. His follow-up invitation to his apartment for dessert made her a little uncertain, but she tried to ignore her own hesitation and sent him a quick OK. She'd gotten changed earlier when Ren first left, and the flowery pink blouse with a jean skirt and boots she wore would be fine for running by LME to grab her belongings and for Ren's place later. At least she hoped.

She headed for the door, pondering the blessed likelihood of whether Moko would possibly be free to spend time together in a beautiful parade of best-friends-only activities until she met with Ren later when she saw Sho sitting on a bench by the door, alone. She smirked again at his transformation. Close-cropped side cut and a long, brushed back top made what he called a "pompadour." She sniggered. The pompous name was too perfect. She had to admit, though, that it suited his face, highlighting his high cheekbones and strong jaw while making his bright blue eyes the focal point. _Too bad he's such a poophead_ , she thought to herself, _or he would actually be nice to look at._ She took his in his entire outfit in wonder. He wore slim fit dark gray slacks with black leather dress shoes and no socks and a fitted light blue shirt with broad white stripes at the cuffs, tucked in securely to his belted waist. Kyoko shook her head. Fuwa-sama would fall over in shock to see her son looking the part of a Respectable Young Gentleman.

"It really is too bad that you ruin the image of respectability as soon as you open your mouth," Kyoko said snidely to Sho, stopping to stand near him. Sho glared up at her without standing. He didn't have the emotional energy left to engage her.

"Just leave," he said harshly. Kyoko frowned, stepping forward to place her hand on his forehead.

"No stupid retort? Are you sick?" she said, half-serious. Sho batted her hand away and pouted. She frowned at him, then pulled her foot back and kicked him in the shin hard.

"OW! DAMN IT KYOKO, AGAIN?!" Sho doubled over in pain as her toes pierced his shin like a rod of iron. "WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU!"

Kyoko grinned. "Ah, there he is," she said. "You were weirding me out before. Felt like someone else was taking over your body."

"Maybe someone else should," he muttered petulantly.

"What was that?" Kyoko said, not catching his reply.

Sho sighed and looked up at her. Did Koga even still want to go through with the plan? He hadn't said a word about it since starting filming with Tsuruga-san. But then again, he was obviously deeper than ever in that man's spell. Sho pursed his lips in anger. _I don't want to… but I promised I would. Damnit._ He felt stuck.

"Want to practice for our MV?" he found himself saying. He tried to grab the words and recapture them, locking them far, far away. Just because he said he would help did not mean he actually needed to do as much as possible! _Say no, say no, say no you cow. Please._

Kyoko cocked her head in disbelief, looking at him curiously. "...practice? You- and I?"

Sho snorted. "No, me and Shoko. Of course you and I, twat. Why do you think I'm even here if not for that? Not like anyone else here is of use to me." There. Let's see how she deals with that! He fiddled with his fingertips, nervousness escaping him through the minute twitches. His words hit a little too close to home. Why _was_ he here? What was Koga to him? A friend?

 _Did friendship feel this way normally?_ he thought to himself, trying to convince himself. He had nothing solid to compare it to. He looked up at Kyoko. "Are we friends?" he said simply.

Kyoko scoffed. "No. I hate your stupid guts, Stupid-Sho," she vehemently answered. His crestfallen and confused face made her furrow her brows and grumble out a follow-up. "But, we once were. Only friends. I got confused thinking it was something more - but you were the one that ruined it, Stupid-Sho."

Sho clasped his hands together tightly, his knuckles white. _So what we had was once friendship._ He tried to remember how he used to feel around Kyoko, before they moved to Tokyo. Did she ever make his heart race? His palms sweat? _Only with her stupidity, causing me such headaches_. She used to cry randomly and he would stand there, staring, just wanting her to stop but having no way to help. That definitely had made his palms sweat. Sho itched his neck. _But heart racing?_ He bit his lip. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe they hadn't been really friends - more like siblings. It certainly felt different than… than other "friends."

"What's wrong with you? Besides the obvious 'everything' answer," Kyoko prodded him in the side.

"God, Kyoko, shut up. Nothing. Just practice with me tonight, okay?" Sho grumbled, avoiding her eyes.

Kyoko glared at him. She desperately wanted to kick him in the balls and run off gleefully laughing in victory, but something about Shotaro was just so off tonight that she couldn't make herself leave. _Maybe_ _I'm_ _just_ _curious_. "Alright, terd face. But on one condition," she added. Sho nodded, absorbed in his thoughts. "You owe ME pudding this time. Dulce de leche. And you go buy it in person, wearing this get up. Make sure they see some form of ID too." Kyoko smiled gleefully. Sho growled but nodded and stood.

 _The things I do for my friend,_ he thought, looking at the door Koga had left through. "Let's go, idiot."


	54. Onsen

Ren drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited at a red light just outside the studio. Koga sat beside him in the passenger seat, partially reclined and seemingly relaxed. Only the constant rubbing of his thumb and forefinger betrayed the turmoil he felt inside. Why was every single move this goddam freak of nature made so ridiculously erotic? Koga shifted in his seat as Ren grabbed the gear shaft, holding it's tip tight as he shifted into first-second-third in rapid succession, the acceleration pressing Koga back against his seat. Koga breathed deeply. _He's just driving_ , he berated himself. _Stop acting like it's foreplay_.

Ren glanced at Koga out of the corner of his eye. _Get to know him, huh?_ Kyoko believed the best of him-the best of the entire world. Ren rubbed his fingers around the smooth top of the gear shaft as he thought, the metal pleasantly cool beneath his palm. Koga kept shifting in his seat. "Too hot?" Ren asked, making Koga jump. "I can turn on the A/C."

"Ah, no, it's fine," Koga replied, sitting up straight in his seat and running his hand through his wavy hair. "Just admiring your driving. I mean- nice car."

Ren pursed his lips. _Get along with him._ "Thank you, Koga-san. I had to have it modified to fit my height," he laughed humbly, "but other than that, it's a standard 911 Carrera."

Koga laughed, "Other than that? Tsuruga-san, how many people actually have a car modified for their height? Dude, why didn't you just buy a bigger car?" Ren grinned, running his hand along the dashboard of the car.

"I like the lines of this one," he said fondly. "Sometimes love takes sacrifice." He smirked at Koga. "Men and their toys, am I right?"

Koga felt himself blushing and looked away, pretending to focus on the intricate stitching on the passenger side door. "Hah, right right."

Soon the pair pulled up outside a local sake bar. Ren parallel-parked first shot, earning a (somewhat oddly shy) high-five from Koga. He climbed out of the car and stretched. "My muscles sure could use a hot soak after today's workout on set," he said absent-mindedly, rolling his shoulders as he waited for Koga.

"I know a good one if you want to go later," Koga squeaked out, cursing his own nervousness. _Come on man, pull it together. All these years - all those dreams. Who's on top here? You're letting him completely jerk you around. Who is number one?!_ He shook his head fiercely, trying to whip himself into confidence. Taking a deep breath, Koga firmed his shoulders and strode over to stand by Ren and look him in the eyes. "We could just skip the drinks after all. A soak is also a good way to reward ourselves."

Ren watched Koga curiously, fully aware of his sudden change in temperament. _He must really like hot springs_ , he thought. It wouldn't be such a bad idea to go relax there- instead of risking consuming alcohol, he could satisfy both his aching body's needs and Kyoko's demand that he make nice with Koga. Hot springs were just fine for conversation. Ren shrugged, turning back to the car. "Times Spa Resta?" he offered. "I've got a membership and a parking spot there."

Koga swallowed hard. _Seriously? This was happening. Seriously?_ He almost ran around the car to get back in, nodding at Ren wordlessly as Ren put the car in drive and pulled back out into traffic. Thankfully, they were already in central Tokyo and reaching the garage took almost no time. Any longer and Koga may have passed out from the anticipation and anxiety. What was he supposed to do? _Should I make a move? Should I focus on friendship? Does his agreement so fast mean he's asking for it? Maybe he's bi. Maybe he's not. Maybe he just wants to soak his muscles. Oh, god, his muscles. Oh my god, what have I done._ On and on he went, his brain in hyperdrive as he responded automatically to Ren's pleasant surface talk.

"Filming going well overall?" Ren asked once, trying to draw out Koga.

"Mmm, yeah," Koga said, falling silent again.

"It's an interesting script. Morizumi said he was thinking of changing parts; I wonder what his aim is," Ren continued.

"I wonder," Koga repeated.

"Has he changed many things before?" Ren asked.

"Change? Ah no, not really," Koga said, focused on trying to figure out exactly when he should remove his robe. _Damn it, I didn't shave. It always looks bigger when you shave._

"Hmm, interesting. So this is a new move for him. I wonder how large it will be?" Ren said, mostly to himself, as he considered Morizumi's implied plans for Momiji and Rusu. _If he actually writes in an on-screen kiss for us…_ Ren's thoughts trailed off into happy dreams as he tapped his fingers on the wheel with pleasure.

"How large?" Koga squeaked, looking down at his pants. _Had he spoken aloud?_ "Not that- I mean- large enough- I mean, what? Large what?" _OhmygodI'msuchanass._

"What? The change. In script," Ren clarified. "What are you thinking of?"

Koga blushed bright red. "Ah, the onsen. I've never been to this one. Sorry, I got distracted."

"We're here, so you'll see for yourself," Ren offered. "But believe me; this one has private pools large enough for me- and as you know, I'm quite the specimen." Ren laughed at himself, thinking of Koga's reaction to him having his car modified. Koga felt his heart rate increasing as he tried to look anywhere and everywhere except where he wanted to look and see if he could see any hint of Ren's "size" for himself.

"Did you have them modify this for you too?" he asked jokingly, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

Ren bust out a laugh, genuinely pleased with Koga's taunt. It was turning out strangely nice to be around someone who wasn't overly impressed with the Tsuruga Ren personality. Maybe Kyoko was right - finding a friend at the same level in show biz could be a good thing. Ren looked at Koga, considering. _A friend_ , he thought. _Well, Kyoko started out weird too. Let's give him a chance._

The two were guided to a private onsen by the head staff who instantly recognized Tsuruga-san. Soft, white robes and towels were piled in the corner with a magically preset sake set pre-filled with Tsuruga's favorite label resting on a short table by the side of the pool. The room glowed with warmth in the dim lighting; bamboo paneling covered the walls with recessed lighting inset skillfully so the exact source of the light was unclear. The water rippled softly, steam rising from its surface and beckoning Ren's tired body into its embrace.

"Koga-san," Ren said, watching the water. "Wonderful idea." He couldn't wait to get in. The last time he'd indulged in a long, hot soak had been as Cain Heel. He felt his blood start to rush with the remembrance of living with Kyoko and the several times she had walked in on him naked in the tub. _I'm going to have to bring her here this weekend,_ he thought to himself. _To the couples' section._ He smiled at the plan until he remembered this coming weekend was her weekend away for the Fuwa MV. He scowled in anger and started ripping his clothes off layer by layer, suddenly anxious to get in the water and let its warmth wash away the nasty feeling of having to trust his beautiful girlfriend to Fuwa Sho.

Koga stood transfixed as Ren's jacket hit the floor, followed swiftly by his shirt. His back muscles rippled in the golden light as he bent to remove his pants, letting them drop to the floor to stand in only his tight, dark briefs. "You-" Koga stuttured. Ren stopped and turned to look at him. "You aren't going to- to use the changing room?"

Ren shrugged, the western gesture catching Koga off-guard. "In a private bath? Why? We're both men, after all." He scooped up his clothes and folded them neatly as he walked over to the shower, laying the pile down on one of the chairs as he rinsed off. Koga swallowed, his mouth dry as he watched Ren's every movement.

"Both men… yes," he said, his voice husky. _Maybe this wasn't such a good plan after all._ He could already feel how tightly his pants fit around his bulge. _God, don't let him see. Unless he wants to._

Ren turned towards the pool and stood right at the edge, shucking his briefs and tossing them over his shoulder then sliding into the hot water with a long, thoroughly satisfied sigh. From where Koga stood by the door, he could only see Ren's back. He didn't know if he wanted to curse his luck for the angle or bless it; anything more than the view of those perfectly tight ass cheeks rising above Tsuruga's long, muscled legs may have made him explode on the spot. He took a shaky breath. _I don't know if I can actually do this,_ he thought. _But god, if I don't… I know I'll regret it the rest of my life._ Tsuruga reached his long arm over to pour himself a cup of sake, tossing it back and releasing another sigh of contentment.

"Come on, Koga-san," he called without turning. He had a feeling Koga needed privacy and purposefully faced completely away from him, giving the man space to undress without being looked at. "Your body will thank you."

Koga groaned. His body most definitely was already thanking him. Pleading with him for more thankfulness. Ren almost turned in concern at the sound, but paused, remembering the weirdness with the door in the dressing room. _Let him be him,_ he thought to himself.

Finally, Koga made up his mind. He ripped off all his clothes as quickly as possible and marched over to Tsuruga's side, sliding into the water with a splash. Immediately grabbing a cup of sake and tossing it back, he poured himself another, careful to keep his waist as far below the water as possible to ensure his, _ahem_ , pleasure in the situation was as obscured as possible.

Ren leaned his head back, eyes closed. "You know, Kyoko thinks we should be friends," he said honestly. Koga stiffened. The last person he wanted to hear about right now was Mogami Kyoko. "And I think- she's right." Ren opened his eyes and looked at Koga with a smile. "It isn't often you meet someone who can understand the pressures of our job." He held his hand out to Koga, offering a handshake. "So, what do you think? Friends?" He smiled brilliantly at Koga, waiting.

Koga felt the most insane turmoil raging inside him. He didn't want to be friends. He desperately didn't want to be friends. He wanted to consume Tsuruga Ren, not play tennis together. But… if friends meant the first step, then… "Sure…" he said slowly. He clasped Tsuruga's hand in his, feeling a shock of electricity run up his arm with the touch of skin to skin. He gripped Tsuruga's hand tightly, forcing himself to look him in the eyes. "Friends."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaoi OOC/AU lemon for RenGa as a side fic in EMYM: Makes Me Want You (and if you're wondering, that's where the FULL pre-onsen shower ended up lol-- Koga WISHES). Enjoy!


	55. CPR

Kyoko's eyes bulged in horror as she read the script for the _Chocolate_ MV. She had to do what- with Shotaro? Her lips curled in disgust. "Nope," she said firmly. "This is going to change, Stupid Sho. Not doing this."

Sho scoffed. "Some actress you are. As if I want to do this with you, of all people. Skinny and short and unfeminine."

Kyoko glared at him, the hairs on her skin standing up as she felt her grudges gather in force to destroy Stupid Sho. "Shotaro," she growled in warning.

"What? Upset? Then prove me wrong," he demanded, sticking his tongue out at her. Kyoko felt her rage start to build as she crumpled the script up between her fists. Suddenly her phone dinged. She turned to look at it, throwing the destroyed script onto the chair next to Sho.

"Ren!" she said happily, opening the message. It was a photo message. She clicked on it to enlarge and gasped in pleased surprise. "And Koga! Yay! Friends!"

Sho stood up and grabbed the phone from her hand, staring at the picture. Ren had his arm around Koga's shoulder, Koga holding up a sake glass in salute as both men smiled for the camera. The steam from the onsen they sat in obscured the photo slightly, their wet hair covering part of each man's face but still Sho's eyes fixated on the blush completely covering Koga's handsome cheeks. He growled and threw the phone on the seat.

"Hey!" Kyoko shouted, diving for her phone. "I don't have the money to replace that! If you broke it, Shotaro, you owe me!"

"OBSCENE," he spat out. "Your f*ing boyfriend sending you obscene photographs and you worry about your phone?! It should be smashed! Disgusting woman!" He stalked off, completely forgetting about their rehearsal.

"It's not obscene! They're at a hot spring! They're friends now! You can't even see anything-" Kyoko's voice trailed off as the wheels in her mind slowly clicked into gear and she realized with a rush of blood to her face that though she couldn't see anything, true, it was also most definitely absolutely and positively a photo of Ren completely and totally and absolutely naked. "OHMYGOD," she said, covering her mouth and dropping her phone again.

Sho fled the building, his mind filled with one thought: he had to find that onsen. He called his driver and stalked impatiently out front of the studio until the man finally showed up, cursing at his slowness as he jumped inside. "I need to get to the onsen, now," he demanded. The driver looked at him in puzzlement.

" _The_ onsen, sir?" he asked.

"Yes! Go!" Sho yelled.

"But… sir, which? There are hundreds in Tokyo," the poor driver asked.

Sho froze. _Which… damn it._

He pulled out his phone and called Koga. It rang and connected to voicemail. He muttered another string of curses and dialed Kyoko.

"WHAT IS IT STUPID SHOTARO?!" she yelled at the phone.

"Damnit, Kyoko! Stop it! You're going to break my brain!" he yelled back.

"WELL WHAT IS IT OR ARE YOU TOO STOOOOPID TO SAY!" Kyoko was completely over his ridiculousness. First, demanding she practice with him. Then, showing her the most awful script ever written by man. Next, abandoning her at the empty studio without a word and almost breaking her phone. Now, harassing her even after he left!

"Where is he?" he demanded.

"Who?"

"Koga! And- Tsuruga," he added lamely.

"An onsen, duh, or are you too dense to even know what a hot spring looks like?" she mocked him.

Sho gritted his teeth against his anger. "Which. Onsen."

Kyoko hummed happily, replying in sing-song, "I dooooon't knooOooooOoW!"

"Send me that pic, now," Sho demanded. "Or I'll make the director add a French kiss to our MV shoot!"

"EWWWWWWWWW I WOULD RATHER DIE STUPID SHO!" Kyoko screamed at the phone, slamming the End Call button. She yelled at the phone some more for catharsis, then sent Stupid Sho the photo. "Purely for insurance," she muttered to herself. The only fate worse than death would be Shotaro's gross tongue in her mouth again. She gagged.

Sho's phone dinged and he muttered a prayer of thanksgiving. Kyoko was an idiot, but she still knew when to cave. He examined the photo carefully. "There!" On the sake tray - "Driver, Times Spa Resta!"

Ren's phone rang. It was Kyoko. "Excuse me," he said to Koga, standing and pulling a towel around his waist as he left the pool to answer her call. A stream of incoherent yelling blared across the line as Kyoko vented about Stupid Sho to Ren. Ren tried to placate her, startled by her vehemence. She calmed down but still seemed agitated.

"Koga-san," he said, holding his hand over the phone as he turned to face Koga. Koga sank deeper into the pool, turning to rest his arms on the side as he stretched his legs out behind him into the water, his arousal completely hidden this way. Tsuruga suddenly standing up next to him had been more than he thought he could bear, but Tsuruga standing there, glistening with water beads, his hair wet and clinging to the sides of his face, only a small white towel covering his midsection... _I need to find a reason to visit the bathroom,_ Koga thought furiously. _And soon._

"I need to go," Tsuruga continued, shocking Koga out of his reverie. "Kyoko needs me. I'll take care of the bill - you good on a ride?" Koga cursed mentally, but merely nodded. Tsuruga grabbed his clothes and went into the changing room, talking calmly to Kyoko the entire time. He reemerged still on the phone, mouthed a simply "Sorry" to Koga, and left.

Koga flipped back over, his heart constricting painfully. Tonight was the best night and worst night of his life. He felt tears start to gather at the corners of his eyes as the realization hit him that if anything were to ever happen, it would have happened tonight. And Tsuruga had still left him for a woman. He grabbed the sake bottle and chugged, sliding into the water until his chin touched the slowly lapping waves.

Sho leapt out of the car before his driver had completely stopped, storming into the onsen lobby. "Koga Hiromune-san," he demanded of the concierge. The man held up his hand in apology.

"We do not release the names of our guests, sir," he said simply.

"I'm his ride home," Sho said, biting off the words. "He's had too much to drink. If you don't want a scene in the lobby, let me go get my friend." The concierge debated for a moment, then nodded. The gentleman before him was rude, but well-dressed. He supposed he could risk a small breach in rules in deference to the peace of the other guests. He gestured for Sho to follow him and led him to a door marked Private. Sho nodded and stood there, waiting for the man to leave. The concierge looked at him strangely but bowed slightly and turned to go.

Sho rubbed his fingers together. He smoothed his shirt and patted his hair into perfect place. He couldn't find any more reasons to hesitate, putting his hand on the doorknob. _Sweaty palms again_ , he thought as he felt the moisture from his palms slick against the metal. _Friendship is so annoying_.

With a grunt of focus he twisted the knob and burst into the room, determined to force his way in between the two men and make sure twisted Tsuruga-san didn't get his claws into Koga. But only one dark head bobbed in the water - too low. Sho ran over to the side of the pool, pulling Koga up out of the water under his arms. Koga's eyes were closed. Sho hit the side of his face gently, calling his name. "Koga? Koga-" Sho felt his adrenaline rush as he realized Koga wasn't responding.

"Koga!" he yelled, smacking his face. He looked about anxiously, trying to remember what to do. "Sir!" he called for the concierge. No answer. "Shit!"

Sho gritted his teeth against the rising panic and braced his hands on Koga's chest. _One-two-three-four_ \- he counted the rapid beats to one hundred and then tilted Koga's head back slightly, holding his nose and diving down to press his mouth on top of Koga's, blowing a long, deep breath into his chest. He started pumping again, his eyes glistening with fear. "Koga-" he repeated to himself as he counted. "Come on, man-" Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Sho beat down on Koga's chest.

Suddenly Koga coughed, water rising and trickling out of the side of his mouth. He moaned and rolled onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut. Sho cried out and grabbed him, holding him up and tight against his chest. "Koga, you stupid ass, you fucking stupid ass, what the fuck man-" he said desperately, his shaking hands gripping Koga's bare skin.

Koga pushed against Sho weakly. "What... ? Where- I'm gonna puke-" he turned his face and hurled on the floor of the pool. Sho grimaced but didn't let go, taking one hand to run it through Koga's hair, smoothing the wet locks back from his face. Koga shuddered weakly, wiping his mouth. He looked at Sho, their faces inches apart. "Sho…" he whispered. "What the fuck, man…"

Sho scoffed, leaning over as far as he could without letting go of Koga to grab a towel and hand it to Koga to wipe his face. "What the f* yourself. Stupid ass, you almost died." Sho tried to keep his voice nonchalant, but even he could hear the tremble.

Koga frowned, his head spinning. He plastered the towel on his face and sat there blinded, completely wasted. Sho slid the towel off him and stood, pulling him to his feet.

Koga staggered and braced himself against Sho, Sho's hands automatically rising to steady him under his arms. Only then did it fully hit Sho that Koga was completely, perfectly, _naked_.

Sho's hands clenched around Koga's shoulders convulsively. He swallowed hard, looking at Koga's flushed face. At his pink lips. He licked his own lips. _I kissed him… there…_ he thought suddenly. "No! Not a kiss," he said aloud, then bit his tongue.

"What…?" Koga said, trying to focus.

"Nothing - just ah, I had to do CPR on you," Sho stammered. "So you definitely owe me. Yeah- you OWE me. I'm your freakin' hero," Sho said, getting amped up as he realized what had just happened. Koga just groaned and slumped forward onto Sho, exhausted and stone-cold drunk. Sho stood very, very still, his brain refusing to process the situation logically.

His body, though, was apparently processing the situation in an altogether unwanted and illogical manner. Sho shifted his hips as far away from Koga as possible, his face red. _F*ing hell,_ he yelled at himself. _He's a DUDE. He's your friend! Not to mention he just almost drowned and is piss-drunk. He won't remember a single thing that happens tonight._ Sho took a deep breath. _He won't remember… maybe that means I can…_ Ignoring consequences in a sudden fit of rashness, Sho wrapped his arms around Koga, burying his face in his damp neck. He smelled clean, and wet, and warm, like a misty summer dawn. He had no idea how long he stood there, just holding Koga, not letting himself think, not letting himself move, just breathing in time with Koga. After a time, Sho realized Koga's skin was getting cool and pushed back, cursing his foolishness.

Koga's arms reached up and grabbed Sho and pulled him back in with a grunt. "Cold," he muttered, resting his head on Sho's shoulder. Sho held his arms out awkwardly before letting them fall; one to his side and one to rest on Koga's head, gently patting his still-damp hair.

"You need clothes, stupid," Sho said quietly. He was using pure willpower to ignore everything that was wrong about this. So very many things were wrong. _And yet it doesn't feel wrong…_ Sho furrowed his brows, trying to banish all thoughts. _Just get him home_. He gently pushed Koga backwards, walking him step by step back to the table that held his clothes. He guided him to sit on the low stool, resting his back against the wall. Suddenly shy, Sho averted his eyes as he squatted next to him and quietly pulled Koga's clothes on piece by piece, holding him up tenderly to pull the shirt down and helping him stand to finish.

Sho let out a shaky breath before grabbing Koga under the arm, bracing Koga's arm over his shoulders, and starting their slow progress to the car. "Let's go home, buddy," he said quietly. Koga just smiled and laid his head on Sho's shoulder as he stumbled out.

Kyoko fidgeted as she waited for Ren to arrive. She wished she still had Bo as a refuge for this conversation. "How do I even start?" she moaned. "Ren, it's not okay to send me naked pictures. AHHHHH WHAT AM I SAYING I CANNOT ADMIT I KNOW HE WAS NAKED! But it's an onsen, of course he was naked. Everyone is naked," she reasoned, tapping her finger on her lips. "But NOT EVERYONE TAKES A PICTURE AND SENDS IT TO PEOPLE!" Kyoko grabbed her hair and pulled it, mussing the short golden strands and making them stand out crazily. She shook her finger at the imaginary Tsuruga Ren. "Know your boundaries! I am a pure Japanese maiden! I will not have naked pictures of men on my phone!" She pulled out her phone to delete the photo. "Even… even extremely good looking…" she trailed off, looking dreamily at Ren in the photo. Her fingers moved of their own accord, hitting Edit then Crop then dragging the small box to be just around Ren's chest and face, cutting out Koga and all the questionable areas covered in steam and milky water. "There. There! Ah-hah! I fixed it!" Kyoko pumped her fist in victory. Ren's arm was clearly still raised and around someone else's bare arm. Kyoko pursed her lips. _I wonder if someday that will be me,_ she thought absent-mindedly. She gasped, putting her hand over her mouth even though she hadn't verbalized anything. "For shame! For shame Mogami Kyoko! You are the wanton woman who receives naked pictures, aren't you!" Kyoko squirmed in her boots, wriggling around like a two-legged anxious caterpillar trying to work it's way out of its cocoon.

Ren pulled up in the middle of her insect gymnastics routine, his eyes wide as he watched her. Sho must've been worse than I thought, he grimaced, parking and stepping around the car to grab her by the arm. "Kyoko, are you alright? Did he hurt you?" he asked.

Kyoko jumped. "AIEEEEE! YOU! NAKED!" She turned and ran away at lightspeed, leaving Ren standing there empty-handed and extremely confused.

Ten seconds later, the human blur reappeared and came to a crashing halt in front of him. Kyoko bent forward, panting, in apology. "I- said- wouldn't- run- from- sorry-" she gasped. "Don't-send - people - such, ah, whew- photos!" she forced out, waving her phone at him. Ren blushed, running his fingers through his hair sheepishly.

"I'm sorry," he said genuinely. "I didn't really think about it. I just wanted you to see we were friends. I thought of Guam, and the meal videos you had me do, and thought this would be the perfect evidence."

"Friends don't need to take nude pictures," she said firmly. "Tsuruga-san, you of all people should know this. Actor's rule of the heart surely also covers man-friends!"

Ren stared at her then burst into laughter. "Oh, Kyoko- you don't- surely, you don't still take that seriously?"

Kyoko frowned at him. "Take what seriously?"

"The... " Ren paused, suddenly realizing what he was about to confess. He looked around and chose his car. "Hang on, let's talk inside." He opened the passenger door and gestured for her to get in. Kyoko shot him a suspicious look but entered.


	56. Sorcerer Ren

Kyoko sat down in the seat and turned to stare suspiciously at Ren as he entered. She opened her mouth to ask the question again, but Ren quickly leaned over and kissed her, shocking her into silence. Kyoko froze like a statue under the sudden kiss, but Ren's soft, slow movements carefully unwound her tension. She melted into his embrace. Kyoko timidly reached her hand over to touch him, resting her hand on his shoulder. He shifted and her fingers grazed his bare skin beside his collar. Memory flashed and warning light exploded in Kyoko's brain. "!NAKED MAN FLESH NAKED MAN FLESH NAKED MAN FLESH NAKED MAN FLESH!"

"Ah!" she gasped, pulling back and covering her mouth with her hand. She blushed bright red with the memory of the onsen bath photo he'd sent, her body turning far too warm for comfort.

Ren leaned forward to recapture her lips, hungry to taste her, but her delicate hand raised in front and stopped him. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then shot him a glare laced with the inherent threat potential of a master Curse Doll Craftswoman.

"Don't try and distract me out of what you were about to say, Sorcerer Ren," she said, wagging her finger at him. His face fell and his lips grew pouty as he threw out his best puppy dog eyes.

"I'm not Setsu, Ren! It's not going to work!" Ren cocked his head at her, his lower lip sticking out slightly as somehow his eyes seemed to grow slightly more round and glisten with precious emotion. "Not- not going to-" Kyoko felt her brain start to melt into sappy mush under the seductive force of his cuteness. She balled her hands into fists and pushed them against her eyes. "Speak, you!"

"Woof," Ren said jokingly. Kyoko's face shot up in shock and the pair dissolved into laughter together, sinking back against the seats. Ren laced his fingers into hers, rubbing her skin gently as he turned just his head to look at her. She was perfect. Talented, driven, emotional, caring, unbreakable, inspiring, beautiful, tantalizing, hilarious, comforting; peace.

"I love you," he said softly.

Kyoko felt her face grow pink and her body get all tingly-warm. Her chest started to heave with suppressed emotion as she kept her gaze perfectly forward, not daring to look at him. If the force of his puppy dog-eyes almost destroyed her brain, surely this face would cause permanent damage to her soul.

"I know," she answered him. Her hand clasped his tightly. "I-"

Ren reached his hand over and gently laid it over her lips, stilling her voice. "Shhh," he said, smiling. "You don't have to say anything just because I did. I want you to look at me one day, in the eyes, as equals... fully known and fully comfortable, and say those words in the same perfect bliss I say them." He rested his head against her shoulder, his large frame filling up the entire car the way he filled her senses. She ruffled his hair with her lips, resting her head on top of his gently.

"It's why I say stupid things sometimes," Ren muttered, not sitting up. He looked down at their entwined hands. "I've known… for a very, very long time how I felt about you. But," he paused, quiet. Kyoko tried to sit up and look at him but he refused to move off her shoulder, making it impossible for her to see his face. "...But I knew I couldn't possibly deserve you. And instead of supporting you, guiding you, being a source of strength and honesty for you - too often I…" he paused again, unable to find the right word.

"Too often I tried to force you to be mine. Only mine. Without ever actually _letting_ you be mine," he finished. He wished she could understand his feelings. "I wanted to protect you from anyone else, but I'm afraid to do so, I lied to you." With that, Ren sat up. He gazed earnestly at Kyoko, who watched him with a mixture of fear and hope in her eyes.

Ren clasped both of her hands in his. "I'm so sorry, Kyoko, for many things. And now is not the time I can share all of them with you, but please… know that nothing I've done was meant to hurt you."

Kyoko frowned at him, then pulled her hands out of his to reach up and cup his face in her palms. "Lies always hurt, Ren," she said softly. She traced his strong jawline, wishing against all odds that he would just open up and tell her everything that was heavy on his heart. "I know the pain I carried trying to keep Bo from you," she continued. "And the freedom I feel now that you know. It all seems so silly somehow, the effort and the anxiety and the lengths to which I went to keep that job a secret all because of the confession you made to the chicken. When if I had just told you- maybe we wouldn't have misunderstood each other so long."

Ren smiled sadly at her. "Not everything is as simple as Bo, my love," he almost whispered. "But I promise you, you will know everything. Even if you're the only person on earth who does." He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers, aching to tell her but still frozen in place. _It needs to be perfect,_ he thought. _Magic. Like she believes Kuon is. If I tell her everything now, in this cramped car, in front of the studio- will she even believe me? Or will she think I'm making it up for attention? Can I really just up and tell her, Hey! Guess what! I'm your childhood fairy prince and the guy you kissed in Guam!_

Ren furrowed his eyebrows at his internal debate. Kyoko felt his forehead move against her skin and sighed. "You and I both need to wait on one another," she said, her voice peaceful.

"Not all of it-" he said, realizing he could at least come clean about his manipulations to keep her from kissing Fuwa. "There is no Actor's Rule of the Heart."

Kyoko sat back and blinked at him.

"No… no- SEMPAI WHAT?!" she yelled, shock distorting her features.

Ren watched her transformation with shock written on his own face. "Oh, Kyoko, no- I mean, no, there isn't, I made it up so you wouldn't kiss Fuwa again but no, it's not such a big deal, right? Why are you-"

Kyoko clenched her hair in her hands and pulled, biting her lips. "But Corn! Oh no," she said, gasping and covering her mouth as she turned to look at Ren.

Ren's face was still stuck in shock. _Corn. Ah._ His brain did mental gymnastics as he realized the source of her panic was her using the Actor's Rule of the Heart to excuse kissing Kuon in Guam and avoid his very own Retribution of Tsuruga Ren.

He was in trouble because of… himself. Doubly. Twice-over. Or was it thrice? Ren's head hurt.

 _How do I play this off?_ he thought. _I can't just say, "Oh, Corn's fine because that's me." Right? Should I? It's like magic, right? The setting sucks but the opening is perfect._

"Oh, Corn's fine because... that's..." Ren started, his pace slowing as he spoke and his uncertainty and anxiety rose.

"FAIRY RULES! YES! YES FAIRY KINGDOM RULES ARE VERY DIFFERENT ARE THEY NOT YES OF COURSE THEY ARE AND HE WAS UNDER A CURSE SO ALTHOUGH IT WAS A REAL KISS BOTH TIMES IT WAS A FAIRY KINGDOM KISS AND THAT'S A DIFFERENT DIMENSION SO IT DOESN'T COUNT" Kyoko screeched, her eyes fixated on Ren as she lambasted him with every beautiful, wonderful, perfectly acceptable in the Fairy Kingdom excuse possible.

Ren blinked.

Repeatedly.

"Ah… yes," he offered. Kyoko sat very, very still, her eyes wide as she watched Ren cautiously. _Like a woodland creature,_ he thought, smiling. He reached over and ruffled her hair then wrapped his arm around her head and pulled her in for an awkward hug. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"Fsh mmtay," Kyoko said, muffled against his sweater. "Buh nmmh lhzz," she finished.

"Mmm?" Ren asked, rubbing her head.

Kyoko pushed against him, forcing her head up. "It's okay, but no more lies," she restated, looking at him seriously. Ren leaned down and kissed her lightly.

"Deal," he said, his eyes full of love. _This weekend, I tell her everything,_ he vowed to himself. He would make Yashiro clear his schedule immediately and follow her to the MV. _Fuwa thinks he can run off with her- just wait._

Sho had a hell of a time getting Koga upstairs and into his apartment. He was getting way too familiar with this stupid guy's building. He bonked Koga on his head as they stumbled down the hallway, Koga supported by Sho's arm under his shoulder, dragging his feet slightly, mumbling nonsense about bubbles and dragon tattoos and scars. "Are friends always this much trouble," Sho fumed at the top of Koga's head as he hefted him up again, trying to reposition the man's weight, "Or are you some kind of gifted with stupidity? I mean, who even drinks that much sake in an onsen? Who goes to an onsen with someone they just met? Especially THAT FREAK." Sho gritted his teeth, purposefully stepping on Koga's foot slightly as the exited the elevator. "Stupid tall freak of nature with no personal boundaries. Bet he didn't even shower before he got in. Stupid dirty freak," he muttered, fumbling as he pushed Koga up against the wall. Sho blushed slightly as he shoved his hand into Koga's pocket to grab the key, but was too angry at the whole annoying situation and him having to play babysitter to let himself focus on it. He shoved the key in the lock and dragged Koga inside.

Sho fumed again as he entered the apartment. "Second time I've brought your drunk ass home," he said, poking Koga in the ribs. "Get some self-control; god."

Koga turned and smiled at Sho sleepily, poking him back. "Sex god, ahaha," he said sleepily, thinking of Ren. "Muscles and sex god," he muttered, trying to stand and find his way to the bedroom.

Sho stood shocked as he watched Koga stumble away. _Of all the weird freaking_ _nonsense things to_ _say_ , _the stupid drunkard says_ \- Sho shook his head, trying to clear out the words. _He_ _couldn't_ _have_ _been_ _talking_ _about_ _me_. _He's_ _a_ _dude_. _He_ _couldn't_ \- "Wait," Sho said aloud. "I'm Fuwa Sho, of course he could have!" He squared his shoulders and walked after Koga. _Damn yes, of course. Women AND men all over Japan would be falling over their feet to worship me by now. They need to redo that ranking; I know I'm above #7_ _as it stands_. He smirked and caught up to Koga, catching him just as Koga tried to maneuver the turn into his room and almost conked his head on the doorframe.

"Sex god, hmm?" Sho said with a sneer. "Can't say it's the first time I've been called that one." He preened under the attention. It was definitely the new outfit that brought this awakening to the awesomeness of Fuwa Sho for Koga. _Gotta buy some more of this fancy crap,_ he thought, making a mental note.

Koga collapsed on the bed, a smile still laced across his face. "Mmmm," he moaned softly. Sho stepped forward, entranced by the sound. Koga's hand reached up. Sho felt himself drawn towards it, reaching his own hand out as he stood still, watching.

"Sex god," Koga purred, his drunken stare fixated on the ceiling. "Come back to me."

It all became far too crystal clear for Sho. He cursed and stomped over to the bed, stepping up on it right next to Koga, furious. He stretched, his arm extending as far as possible. "Can't- get- DAMNIT!" Sho shouted. He bounced on the bed, making Koga gag and roll over in nausea. Once- twice- he stretched his hand out at the top of a bounce and caught the edge of the Tsuruga Ren poster, ripping it down off the ceiling. His foot slipped on the edge of the bed and he fell backwards, hitting his back on Koga's dresser as he stumbled off the bed, arms flailing.

"STUPID F*ING PIECE OF SHIT AH OW MY GOD YOU MOTHER F*ER!" Sho erupted in a string of curses against the pain as he balled the poster up into a tight wad and threw it out of the room. He turned to glare at Koga, about to rip into him for all the stupidity he'd brought into Sho's life and saw that Koga was completely passed out.

Sho huffed, shaking his fist at Koga, but the man's sleeping form had a strange diffusing effect on Sho's anger and he soon found himself realizing just how badly his back ached and how badly he needed rest.

"Ah, screw it," he said to himself. He looked at Koga. "The least you can do is not make me drive home." He sneered childishly at Koga and sent his driver a message to come get him at 9 AM tomorrow before shoving Koga up on the bed and collapsing into the pillow next to him.


	57. Roll Over

Sho woke up hot. So freaking hot. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to get out from under the thick annoying blanket stifling him. He felt most of the heat coming from behind him and pushed back against the hot lump with his hand.

It moved. Grunted. Grabbed him and yanked him back with a _huff_ to lay tightly against it.

Sho held himself very, very still, his eyes wide with sudden understanding as to the source of heat under the blanket. Gingerly, he reached his hand up and back. His fingers found a soft pile of curly hair. Sho winced, trying to scootch away but the arm around his waist had an iron grip. He'd have to kick him in the balls to get him to let go.

" _Koga_ ," Sho whispered. " _Let go, man._ " Koga murmured and buried his head in Sho's back. Sho felt the tips of his ears getting red hot as he lay still, trying to keep his breath steady when almost every single instinct of his was screaming at him to shove the creep off and run. Every instinct except one, and that one was whispering _turn around._

Sho laid still for what felt like ages, staring at the wall of Koga's bedroom, feeling every sleepy breath the man behind him drew. Slowly, Koga's arm began to loosen as he fell back into a deep slumber, making it easier for Sho to breathe - and to escape. Sho shifted, experimenting. He could definitely slide out and get away now.

Except he didn't. He bit his lip. _Why aren't I moving?_ He closed his eyes, furrowing his brows. It was so warm in the bed, and Koga needed comfort after almost dying last night, right? That was all. _I should check on him,_ he decided, nodding to himself as he carefully rolled over in the bed to face Koga.

Koga's curls fell across his face, obscuring his left eye and the bridge of his nose. His breath ruffled the tips of his dark hair before it warmed Sho's skin. His lashes were thick and dark against his pale cheeks, making the strong line of his brows more striking. His forehead was perfectly smooth as he slept in peace, his lips slightly open. His cheek was smushed slightly by the pillow, making it just a bit pudgy. Sho wanted to poke it so bad; it looked soft and squishy. He laughed silently under his breath. _Pudge. Like pudding._ He wondered if he could get away with calling him that. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reveling in the simplicity of the moment.

Koga shifted, smooshing his face farther into the pillow and bringing his leg up to rest on top of Sho's. Sho felt panic start to rise in his chest. _He can't find me here- god, why am I still here!_ He tried to move backwards but Koga's leg hooked around his knee and Koga grunted, his eyes furrowed with negation. He still slept, deep in a dream. Sho put his hands on Koga's chest to try and gently roll him over. Koga moaned under his breath, arching his back ever so slightly towards Sho's hands.

Sho felt his body respond to the sound instantly. Wrapped in Koga's warmth, hidden under Koga's blankets, feeling his firmness and the heat of his breath: proof of his arousal was sudden and completely inconsiderate. Sho's eyes went wide with shock as he looked down, trying to see beneath the blankets to confirm what he felt. "Shit!" he cried, losing it. _What the f* is going on?_ He shoved against Koga hard, rolling Koga suddenly away from him and pushing himself backwards off the side of the bed with a _THUMP._

"Auuuuggggghhhhh," Sho groaned, trying to curl up against the pain of slamming his bruised back onto the hard floor. He gritted his teeth and lay in a ball, his hands stretching around to try and soothe the spot but unable to reach. All thought of anything inappropriate was completely subsumed by the sudden drop and shock.

A hand reached over the side of the bed and swatted his prostrate form.

"Hungry," Koga demanded.

Sho shot him a glare, not moving.

Koga swatted at him again, catching his hair this time. "Hun. Gry."

Sho stuck his tongue out at him, cursing him under his breath.

"Freeloader," Koga muttered into his pillow. "Pay for your stay. You make breakfast."

Sho mocked him without actually speaking, mouthing the words stupidly as he eased his way into a sitting position.

"Faster. Hungry," Koga said, turning his face to look at Sho. Their eyes connected over the side of the bed; Koga's weary and dark looking into Sho's bright, alarmed blue eyes. Sho jumped, springing to his feet and walking as quickly out of the room as his body could carry him.

He purposefully crashed and bashed as much as humanly possible while making toast. Koga shuffled out in a gray robe, glaring at him and putting his hands over his ears when Sho almost threw the plates onto the table and tossed slightly burnt toast on top, scattering crumbs on the table. Koga stared at him menacingly from under his tousled bangs, sitting and pushing the plate away. Sho sat down gingerly, wincing as his back muscles protested. He shot a glare right back at Koga, opening his mouth to rant. "Some gratitude for-"

But Koga had already stood up and left the room, leaving Sho blustering at empty air. He poked at his toast, making faces at it in lieu of Koga. _Stupid toaster. Stupid bread. Ow- stupid dresser._ He rubbed at his hip, wishing Shoko was here to rub some ointment on his bruised muscles.

Koga came back, his face still grumpy and cross. He walked over and grabbed Sho by the shoulder, bunching up the rumpled cloth of his R'Mandy dress shirt. Sho grunted, "Hey!" and tried to push him off, but Koga dragged him over to the couch and pushed, throwing him off balance and face-smack-down onto the cushions. Sho pushed up to shoot him a murderous glare, a mess of angry words bunched up on the tip of his tongue when Koga sat down on top of him, pinning his hips to the couch.

Sho squeaked and dropped; the breath knocked out of him. He felt Koga's hands push his shirt up roughly and squirmed. _This is how I die,_ he thought, _I'm gonna die of embarrassment._ He felt his face hot against his hands as he buried it, trying to hide himself. "What're you doing…" he mumbled into the cushion.

"Shut up," Koga muttered, still grumpy. "I'm not even going to ask how you hurt yourself. Too many possibilities for someone as foolish as you. But I'll never get a proper breakfast if you can't move." His hand touched Sho's back, spreading a smooth and cooling ointment over Sho's bruised upper back. Sho flinced and tensed, earning him a smack on the back of the head from Koga. "Stay still," he said.

Sho muttered, mocking him, but obeyed. He kept his face plastered into the cushions. Finally, Koga finished and stepped off him as he twisted the cap back on the ointment, padding away to the bathroom to put the medicine away without a word. Sho stayed very, very still on the couch, willing his body to regain its composure. His mind fought for control but his traitorous body just kept rehearsing the feeling of Koga's strong, heavy legs draped on either side of him as his hands rubbed his back tenderly- Sho shoved himself up. _Distraction. Do something else._ He looked down. _With a woman. A woman. Or at least something to cover this crap up._ He fled into the kitchen and rooted around, grabbing an apron and tying it around his waist.

Koga emerged and laughed at the image of Sho in the kitchen. His shirt was wrinkled and hitched up; his hair a total rat's nest from the gel and sleep and his swat. He had Koga's grandma's apron on, a frilly blue and white confection with a large bow that wrapped all the way around and tied in the front. He padded around the kitchen barefoot, mumbling to himself as he checked the refrigerator and cabinets for more food. Koga sat down at the table, absentmindedly grabbing the burnt toast and munching it as he watched the show. "Hurry up," he muttered around the dry mouthful. "I have to get to work in an hour."

Sho sneered at him as he poured juice. "Make it yourself then," he jeered. He tossed a plate of slightly over-cooked eggs and an orange cut in half on the table, pulled the apron off and threw it on the counter. He flipped Koga a rude gesture, grabbed his shoes and left. Koga just smiled and peeled his orange the rest of the way, taking a big, juicy bite.

Kyoko stretched languidly, her soul still flying high from last night. She felt like romping through daisy fields; like flying; like she had been promoted to Senior Highest Beautiful Princess in the World! Like she needed to call Moko!

She rolled over and grabbed her phone from her bedside table, dialing her best friend.

"Mo…" Moko moaned. "What time is it? There better be something wrong."

Kyoko bit her lip. "I didn't check, I'm sorry! Mokooooo, please forgive me! I'll call back-"

"No, Mo, hush- you woke me up once already, just spill it. What's wrong."

Humming uncontrollably, Kyoko squeezed the phone to the side of her face. _I can't find the words…!_ She could feel Moko roll her eyes through the phone and started sputtering. "I- he- he- said- me - to me, he said-"

"MO. Never mind, I'm not wasting my time with this, I'm going back to slee-"

"MOKO HE SAID HE LOVES ME!" Kyoko blurted out, covering her mouth with a gasp as she released the words into the air, somehow making them more solid reality with her profession.

"And…?"

Kyoko pulled the phone back from her ear to examine it. Was it broken? Did it cut out? "Moko, Moko are you there?!" She heard Kanae sigh in exasperation. "Oh good, you are! I didn't hear your reply!"

"I said, and…?"

Kyoko frowned confused. "Moko, what do you mean, and…! Moko! He said- he said-" she couldn't bring herself to repeat it again. It had the power to break the world!

"Everyone on God's green earth already knew he loved you. He's been so obvious about it for months! Mo, you're the only dense one here!" Kanae pouted. She couldn't believe Kyoko had woken her up for this. _But at the same time…_ Kanae ruffled her hair in angry embarrassment. Being woken up by a girl friend to hear about her significant other's confession… Kanae had never imagined she of all people would be in this situation. It wasn't that bad, she supposed. She sighed. "Just… enjoy it. Did you tell him back?"

Kyoko screeched, her hair standing on end. "No! Moko, I said - I said, _I know_."

"OH MY GOD," Kanae dead-panned. "You didn't." She fell on her bed, clutching her stomach as she tried not to laugh. "You pulled a Han Solo."

"Hands solo?" Kyoko asked, puzzled. "What does that have to do with my hands?" She looked at her hands, her face filled with curiosity.

"Mo, never mind. Too much information to cover. You are LoveMe member #1 for a reason, aren't you?" Kanae's face twisted with a mix of frustration and happiness. Her friend finally knew - in a completely unavoidable manner, no matter how hard her Kyoko Barriers of Imaginative Denial worked - how Tsuruga Ren felt about her. Now the hard part would be preventing her from self-destructing over it. "Let's meet for ice cream," she said, knowing that was an irresistible temptation.

"MOKO! AH, HOW PERFECTLY WONDERFUL!" Kyoko spun around her room with stars in her eyes. This was potentially even better than Ren's confession! Her best friend had asked her on a girl date, for ice cream, without being threatened! Kyoko swooned onto her bed. Suddenly her eyes shot open. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she cried.

"What?" Kanae asked, waiting.

"Filming! Today! Momiji!" Kyoko ejaculated, her voice strangled.

"Mo, I'm not going anywhere. We'll meet tonight then. Call me when you're done," Kanae said with a huff. She was not going to let Kyoko wander around with this emotional bomb ticking inside.

"Mokoooooo, you're the Best of All Best Friends in the Entire World, even the Fairy Kingdom!" Kyoko sang, bouncing on her bed.

"Enough. Goodbye," Kanae said curtly, hanging up the phone.


	58. Take One

Ren snuck into her dressing room without a sound. She was sitting with her back to the door, mumbling quietly to herself as she rehashed her lines. The way her short golden locks lay on the back of her neck revealed glimpses of her white skin while she practiced. Ren smiled as he leaned forward and placed a kiss right on the nape of her neck.

Kyoko jumped straight up in the air and turned swiftly to smack the intruder with her script, bleating in alarm. Ren blocked her move, the script bouncing off his wrist as he grinned broadly and snuck down to steal a second kiss from her cheek. "See you on set, my love," he whispered in her ear. Kyoko flushed and hid her face behind her script, muttering into the pages.

"See you… Ren…"

She was coming undone. Sneak-attacks from Tsuruga Ren had to be beyond the allowable rules of fair play. Even in love and war! She slowly peeked out from behind the script, making sure she was alone before she took a deep breath and settled back into her chair. A bashful grin slowly crept across her face as her skin tingled in the two places he'd kissed her this morning. She placed a hand on each, closing her eyes and letting the warmth of his memory ease her nerves and relax every muscle. When she opened her eyes again, Momiji reigned. _Go time._

_Lotus in the Mire, Scene 46 Take 1_

Momiji slowly stood, her eyes burning with bloodlust as she scanned the hillside. _Schink_ — her katana sliced an arrow out of the air, only her wrist moving to execute the slice with deadly accuracy. _They were coming_. She glanced behind her. Two distant figures finally reached the safety of the forest, their shadows disappearing into the thick undergrowth. _He is safe_ , she nodded to herself. _And_ _the woman_. She couldn't help the sneer that distorted her face as she thought of Chidori, but today at least her futile existence had been tactically useful. Shizuma escorting Chidori to safety in their disguises as husband and wife gave her the excuse she needed to get Shizuma away from the bloodbath about to unfurl.

 _He has been hurt enough,_ she thought, her grips on her twin swords firming in anger. For too many years had her master lived under the shadow of the lord's evil. Their desperate act had set him free from his physical grasp, but the shadow of treason and inability to clear his name stank and clouded his present. _But Rusu is back_ … she reminded herself. Their reunion a glimmer of hope in the bleak loneliness her master endured. _If_ _Rusu is worthy of such hope._ She couldn't bring herself to trust the man.

She couldn't bring herself to trust anyone but Shizuma and herself. _My master needs only me_ , she threatened her subconscious. _And I need only him_.

A dark shadow flitted to her right and she raised her sword, spinning soundlessly as she cut down another arrow, lunging forward with her strike to duck below a third. They were coming quickly now; the first black-clad troops cresting the hill. She spun on her planted foot, rising into a high axe kick to slam the closest attacker onto the ground. Her hand shifted against the hilt of her sword, seamlessly pulling out and launching a set of three throwing knives into throats. The only sound was their gurgling last breaths and crumpling bodies; both enemy and ninja intent on the silent kill. Momiji knelt and unleashed a furious barrage of spinning sword attacks as the full force slammed into the hilltop, leaping over the bodies of the fallen to swarm her.

She breathed slowly and calmly, the space around her bare except for the maelstrom of steel she controlled. One by one they fell before her, groans and screams slicing the night as she fought. Momiji leapt high, arcing over the barricade of bodies and landing in the middle of four ninjas. They crouched then leapt as one to consume her, bristling with throwing knives and katanas. She waited a heartbeat, then dropped into a low, stretched crouch and flung four shuriken out, her aim a perfect deadly strike at each man's throat. She sprang up and pushed her way past two while they fell, lashing out with her foot to kick down an enemy rushing up behind and spinning to block another silent sword strike with the flat palm of her hand. Relentlessly she attacked, a constant blur of deadly motion.

 _Two more minutes and he's reached the horses_ , she counted. No sweat dropped from her brow; her body disciplined to her will. She whirled, her swords racing before her in a spinning arc to cut down two more ninjas as more attackers swarmed up. Momiji gritted her teeth. She braced herself and ran forward into the melee. _Ninety seconds._ Launching her last throwing knife ahead of her, dropping an enemy clutching his eye in shock and pain, she leapt up and twisted as she jumped, bringing her swords forward like a battering ram to slice into the mass of men. She hit, twisted, rolled, lanced outwards, flying into a rapid sword sidethrust as we took down three more — "UNH!" her first sound since Shizuma left was ripped out of her gut as an arrow pierced her shoulder from behind.

Momiji spun, one hand grasping both swords as her injured arm snaked down to grab her last knife and throw it, impaling the archer hidden in the brush. She blocked an incoming blow with her twin swords, splitting them again to turn and beat back the horde. Blood dripped from her arm, it's rust color blending on her katana blade with the stains left by her enemies, the cadence of drips matching the steady fall of man after man as she sliced her way through their ranks with terrifying force.

Hours later dawn broke across the silent battlefield. A lone figure walked among the fallen, his broad shoulders hunched and dark hair obscuring his face as he searched the bodies.

His silhouette went rigid against the crimson horizon when he saw her. Strong arms swept down and gathered up her small body, holding her tight against his chest while he checked for a pulse. He straightened and immediately began to run.

Momiji awoke, her mind fogged with fever. Her surrounding were fogged with haze— something trapped her limbs— she needed out—

"Shhhh, fierce one," a deep, calm voice shushed from beside her. Strong hands braced across her torso, holding her still. Momiji tried to buck them off, but her body refused to obey her. She fell back, exhausted, moaning defiance as the fever dragged her back down.

Silently, Rusu sat back. His brows knit with worry as he crossed his arms against his chest. Three days now she'd lain in fever. _If he couldn't break it tonight…_ he shook his head, banishing the thought. He stood and reached over the bed to the small cabinet nestled above; the tiny cabin they hid in had few places for storage in its single room. A small fire burnt in the fireplace behind him, casting flickering shadows over his face and making his scars look alive in the shifting light.

Rusu found the gotu kola salve he sought and sat back down beside her. He sat it beside her on the bed and gingerly lifted the handmade dressing off her shoulder wound to reveal the red wound where the arrow had pierced her. He opened the jar and dipped his fingertips inside to scoop out a small portion. His large hand nearly covered her entire shoulder as he gently applied the salve. Momiji twisted slightly; Rusu reached up with his free hand to smooth her bangs back from her face, caressing her forehead lightly as he worked to clean and dress her wound. She relaxed under his touch, slipping into sleep.

Rusu finished, closing the salve and sitting himself back down to watch over her carefully. She was so small, so fragile-looking— but had destroyed a small army single-handedly. The brutality her hands were capable of shocked and thrilled him. He picked up her left hand, limp in slumber, and traced his coarse fingers over its lines. He set her hand down, settling in to another long night of careful attendance.

Momiji awoke to the bright light of noon, her mind clear for the first time in days. She tried to sit up, but a lancing pain in her shoulder stalled her and a heavy weight on her lap halted further movement. She fell back on the pillow, shoving weakly against the weight. It grunted and shifted. Deep brown eyes caught her gaze as the pile rose and formed itself into a man's face, hair wildly askew from his restless sleep at her bedside.

Rusu's eyes widened in surprise as their gazed locked. His hand flew to her forehead to gauge her temperature. Momiji willed herself still under his touch; her instincts aching to flee. She forced herself to remember the bond Shizuma and Rusu shared and wait. At least for now.

The grin that broke across Rusu's rugged features was sudden and devastatingly unannounced. He beamed at her. "It worked!" he laughed, clapping his hands on his thighs in triumph. She burrowed back into the pillow, trying to distance herself from his blinding exuberance. Rusu noticed the minute shifts in her expression and stilled his features. "Your fever broke," he declared in a quiet voice. "Now all you need is time. No more miracles."

Momiji nodded at him, turning her head to the side to look out the window. Rusu stood and padded over to the open fire, pulling a covered out out from the low coals. "Congee," he said, returning to ladle out a small portion into a wooden cup. Momiji tried to reach for it but fumbled, the pain in her shoulder exacerbating her weakness from the fight.

Rusu silently sat and scooped some of the thick mixture onto a small wooden spoon, holding it out for her to eat off. Momiji shook her head, agitated. She would humble herself this much before no man but Shizuma. Rusu scowled and shoved his hand at her, intent on her nourishment. She balked and tried to scoot back and away, her mouth sealed shut. Rusu leaned over her, his eyes determined. "Eat, or I will pin you down and force you to eat from my hand. I would rather not risk reopening your wound though. Choose the first option, ninja."

Momiji scowled blackly at him but, after a pause pregnant with her unwillingness, opened her mouth. He scooped the congee again, blowing on it lightly. She considered biting off his fingertips in retribution but one look at his face after the idea crossed her mind confirmed he knew her plan. "Try me. I bite harder," he sneered.

Momiji bared her teeth at him but ate, the obedience to someone other than Shizuma grating at her soul.

Day after day passed, and Rusu remained by her side as a strong, quiet presence willing her to heal. She grew used to his aura; the roughness and brash words so different from the grace evident even in the darkest parts of Shizuma. Where her master was strong and steady like a river, Rusu was a barrage of crashing force and presence that came and went with his moods like the ocean. He grated against her, challenged her, soothed her, and nursed her. His rough hands helped her to stand then promptly dropped her, forcing her to struggle and bear her own weight. His callused fingers changed her dressing nightly with expert delicacy, then gripped and held her down when she fought taking her disgusting herbal medicine.

She found herself studying him, trying to learn his patterns, arguably looking for signs of weakness but learning more about the way his muscles moved as he unhooked the large cast iron pot from over the fire than his plans for her. She cursed inside every time she caught herself studying his bare skin by the firelight, driving her thoughts back to how to escape and find Shizuma.

 _Escape_ , she thought. _But am I prisoner? Or do I stay willingly_ … she rolled over, her golden eyes fixated on Rusu as he sat sharpening his sword on the doorstep. She felt deeply uncomfortable in his presence, like a vibrating sound was ringing in her ears and filling her skin whenever he drew too close. The way he could consume her senses was dangerous and left her too open for attack.

"I am leaving," she declared to his back.

He stilled, the reverberations from the last stroke to his sword hanging in the air. Then he shrugged and resumed his task without turning to look at her.

Momiji felt strangely bereft. She wondered at the emotion and frowned. It was past time to be rid of his influence and find her master. She could surely find the strength to journey on alone by now; their exercises had been gradually increasing as day by day her shoulder and body regained the strength sapped by the fever. Momiji nodded. Shizuma needed her. She stood and stretched, reaching down to pick up her own swords. Her shoulder protested in sharp pain as she stretched the wound, but she ignored it as she twisted to latch on her twin sheaths.

"In the morning," Rusu growled.

Momiji stilled. She _tsked_ at him and began to buckle her belt.

Rusu sat down his sword and stood, filling the doorway. He walked over to her and reached out one hand to cover hers where it worked to fasten her belt. His eyes danced in the firelight as he looked down at her. He leaned in close, his long hair spilling over his shoulder to brush against hers as he pulled her hand off her swordbelt and rumbled, his voice low and harsh, "I said… morning."

"And CUT!" their director's voice rang shockingly clear across the set, jarring Ren and Kyoko out of their roles with the force of ice water pouring over their heads. The two visibly slumped; Ren bending purposefully to catch Kyoko as she sagged under the weight of the exhausting fight scene and aftermath.

Director Morizumi hustled over, clasping his hands together joyfully. "Everything and more! Everything and more! You heard Rusu, everyone— that's a wrap for today— 'in the morning' we continue!" Morizumi slapped Ren on the back and shook Kyoko's hand, thanking both of them. "God-given chemistry," he praised. "And to think! Kasama-san wanted to keep it emotionally neutral between you two! Kasama-san! Kasama-san! Did you see that?!"

Kyoko smiled up at Ren as the Director rushed off to heckle his favorite writer.

"You…" Ren spoke, his voice filled with wonder. He wanted to lift her up and spin her around and cover her with kisses, showing her unarguably exactly how amazing she was— but the eyes of dozens of staffers drilled into them as he stood by her side in the middle of the set. He settled for reaching his hand out, clasping her hand in his and bowing slowly and purposefully over their joined hands. "It is an honor to act alongside you, Mogami Kyoko." Kyoko blushed and the stage hands buzzed with gossip as The Tsuruga Ren lowered his head to a talento.

No one present, however, could argue. She seemed born to be Momiji. One cameraman began to clap and soon the entire set erupted in applause as Kyoko stood centerstage, blushing ferociously and bowing repeatedly left and right to each cast and crew member in turn, desperately trying to deflect the praise to their hard work and skill.

Morizumi's assistant regained control by waving his clipboard and loudly announcing the afternoon schedule. Chidori and Shizuma scenes intermixed with B-roll. Ren leaned down and whispered to Kyoko, "Want to come over? We can study for tomorrow and our last set together," he offered. Kyoko bit her lip anxiously.

"I can't. Moko and I have plans, we—"

"Afterwards…" Ren said, his voice beckoning. "I haven't eaten anything yet today except a takiyaki."

Kyoko glared at him, outraged. "Tsuruga-san, you know how bad that is for you! I can't believe you actually think that you can get away with such—"

"Stay with me tonight," Ren interrupted her, stepping forward to close the distance between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch dedicated to kaname671 -- she also features Ren in Lotus in her amazing fanfic "No More Mr. Nice Guy"! You can find it here or on fanfiction.net!!


	59. Possessiveness

He was too close. Too close! Kyoko's heart was beating erratically as Ren leaned in towards her; the words "Stay with me," flowing too soft and easy off his gilded tongue. Kyoko swallowed hard, her eyes darting around at the crowd of tech and film support still watching them even as they bustled about preparing for their next scenes.

"Ren," she said sternly, gently pushing at his arm. "Stop. People are looking." Ren's eyes flashed with a possessive gleam as he stepped closer instead.

"Let them," he whispered. "Let them think whatever they want."

Kyoko felt her throat constricting with the force of her conflicting emotions. She wanted to grab him and shake him - _now is NOT the time to let the Emperor loose, you crazy man!_ \- and she wanted to grab him and… and… _oh god,_ she moaned inside. _And kiss him._ The depraved, impure thoughts he brought out in her! She balled her hands into fists and glared up at him. He smiled and reached up to finger her hair, leaning back.

"Fine," he said. "But all I have at home is instant ramen. And I was so looking forward to celebrating our first role together with you," he said, his face falling.

Kyoko felt her temper rise again at his words about ramen, only to be replaced by guilt at pushing him off when he pouted sadly. "I said we could… I mean, I'll be over- as soon as I can, I'll come," she finished, looking shyly down at her feet.

Ren bounced slightly in celebration. He reached over and pressed her hand covertly, smiling gently. "See you at… 8?"

She peered up at him under her Momiji bangs, trying to hide her excitement behind a pouty nod. Ren grinned and left to get changed.

Kyoko stood still, watching him leave. She frowned as the door shut behind him. _Played. Totally played!_ He'd worked her over perfectly in that exchange, pulling her emotions around until she agreed to what he wanted! It wasn't anything devious or even something she didn't want to do; fine, fine. _But still!_ It had been so many months since she'd acted opposite him in _Dark Moon -_ and even before that in _Ring-Doh_. She hoped she would've become talented enough by now to observe and block his magnetic pull, but apparently she was just as lost in him as ever.

 _What about my Momiji_? she thought sharply, a sudden warning flashing in her mind. Was Ren's Rusu going to manipulate Momiji as easily as he was able to pull her heart strings? Kyoko furrowed her brow, trying to trace back over their scene together. Momiji was the main character - her own development and storyline was most essential to the plot of _Lotus_ , and Rusu needed to stay subservient. A sudden spark of professional possessiveness arose in her. Tsuruga could not have Momiji!

Momiji was the key to a new arena of acting. Action roles, historical dramas, and maybe even someday… _love._ She was her first role that involved portraying love! Kyoko felt her protectiveness emanate from this point. She clenched her fist in determination- her portrayal of Momiji needed to be fully hers; not Ren's, and not Koga's. Acting with Koga was different for her; less worrisome. Perhaps because of the gentleness at the core of Shizuma's character, or perhaps just due to a different style of acting. She never had to worry about her character being dominated by his. In fact, it had been a glorious joy to manipulate and draw forth reactions in him during their improvisation fireside scene! Kyoko grinned, remembering the high of forcing another actor to react.

She started to absent-mindedly head towards her dressing room, slowly unwinding her headband and wristlets as she walked and debated internally. Rusu, on the other hand, was rough and coarse. His sudden mood swings and deep-throated growls of annoyance would naturally cause different reactions. _But should they provoke_ _a ninja as skilled at deception and stealth as Momiji? Or am I letting him lead too strongly?_ She rubbed her lips with her hand as she thought, closing her dressing room door behind her. Kyoko stood and looked at herself in the mirror. He had definitely startled her when he leaned over her with that brilliant smile, its appearance uncanny beneath the layers of scars. And when he held her up as they performed the cut scenes of therapy and strength training - the shivers that ran through Momiji's body were not her acting choice but a visceral and unavoidable reaction to his touch.

Kyoko reached out and touched her reflection in the mirror.

 _I know you cherish me, Ren,_ she affirmed to herself. _But I need to learn to stand on my own. And to do that… I need to learn to resist you. To create these responses in myself when the character demands it, not when you draw it forth. No matter how skillfully you do so._

An idea blazed. Perhaps tonight will be the perfect time to practice her own technique. If a master actor is able to subconsciously pull these physical responses from his co-stars- would she be able to do the same to him? Kyoko smiled at herself. A true test. If, during their study tonight, she could elicit unplanned and uncontrolled reactions from Tsuruga Ren, it would be proof she was growing as an actress. _To be able to manipulate you the way you do me,_ she thought, her eyes glimmering with excitement. _Now that's fair play._ Then, they could ripple back and forth like waves, neither one crashing over the other but together intensifying the moment into art. Kyoko let her hand fall. _Tonight. But first…_

"MOKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Kyoko flung her arms out in pure romping bliss as she entered the ice cream shop. The employees froze in shock and awe as she pranced at supersonic speed across their domain to launch herself at the destined "Moko" in the back booth holding her long-handled spoon out like a sword.

"STOP!" Kanae commanded, her spoon-sword waving threateningly.

Kyoko froze, her smile perfectly intact and slightly crazed, her arms wide open, her body poised at the tippy-top of her tippy-toes, hair wild and shining in the flourescent lights of the cafe.

"SIT!" Kanae commanded, pointing dramatically at the seat with her spoon.

Kyoko melted into the seat, oozing over to sit as close to Kanae as possible, her smile still completely transfiguring her face. She waited, watching her friend, her eyes beaming. Kanae huffed and shoved the spoon into the ice cream, spinning it so the spoon stuck out directly at Kyoko.

Kyoko looked at the ice cream, then at Moko. Back at the ice cream. Back at Moko.

"One… dish…?" she asked, her voice trembling beneath massive eyes.

Kanae glared at her out of the corner of her eye. She pulled another spoon off the napkin in front of her.

"Two... spoons…?" Kyoko continued, tears gathering at the corner of her eyes.

Kanae didn't answer. She stuck her spoon in the ice cream and shoved a tiny bite into her mouth, chewing needlessly and dramatically.

Kyoko melted into a blob on the floor. Being invited out for ice cream was one thing; being invited to _share a single dish of ice cream_ … a long, delirious wail emerged from the puddle on the floor.

Kanae kicked at her, her face red. "Mo! I _will_ throw it away if you do not get up off that floor and start eating immediately."

Kyoko magically re-materialized in the bench next to Kanae and started shoving ice cream into her face spoon after spoon after spoon.

"Kyoko-chan, slow down! Mo, you don't do anything normally!" Kanae whacked at Kyoko's spoon with hers, eyeing the curious employees and other shoppers with disdain.

"Moko-chan," Kyoko sighed, "this ice cream is so good! Ice cream together with my best friend! MO!"

"Mo, don't steal my word," Kanae chided. "I really will denounce you."

Kyoko settled in happily next to Kanae, the shocking levels of joy turning into a blissful contentment as they sat and ate together, her taking three bites to each of Kanae's tiny mouthfuls. Kanae demanded they speak in English to begin practice. The two girls discussed Kanae's travel preparations and the progress filming _Lotus in the Mire_ , eventually coming around to the topic of Ren. Kyoko hesitated and blushed when she said Ren's name, purposefully calling him "Lotus" in English to disguise his identity since they were in public.

Kanae took the opening. "Lotus… how are things with him?"

Kyoko took an extra long time to finish off her next bite of ice cream. "...good…" she said simply, wanting to gush and rant all at once, but unsure where exactly to start - and where her heart lay.

"So much ah, hesitation," Kanae said. "Good?"

"An excellent choice of word, Kanae," Kyoko said. "Hesitation is not one of the basic English vocabulary words. I am so proud of your studies and hard work!"

"Mo," Kanae interrupted, waving her hand at Kyoko dismissively. "Do not get away from my question."

"Ah…" Kyoko bit her lip.

"He loves you," Kanae said, gracefully eating another bite of ice cream before laying her spoon down and looking intently at Kyoko. "Which… you _know_." She smiled slightly at the words, baiting her friend.

Kyoko rubbed her lips together. "I cannot believe that I said that to him," she said earnestly. "But… I do not have any other recourse."

"Recourse?" Kanae said, furrowing her brows. Sometimes Kyoko's formal English was difficult to follow.

"Option," Kyoko offered. "I do not know what else to say to him. I know how my heart feels around him, but it is not always pleasant. I am scared." She looked at Moko, her eyes begging for help.

"Mo, it's fine to not move at the same pace. You are you and he is he. Ah, he is him? He? He is Lotus, anyways. The important thing is that you are honest, and talk," Kanae pursed her lips, reverting to Japanese. "Yuki and I are not always on the same page, but we trust one another implicitly. I know that he is honest with me, and he truly cares for me. He knows the same about me. All of which means that if I don't want to move forward with something, or aren't ready for a step yet, we can trust that it's not the end of the relationship but just a process."

Kyoko stared at Kanae with eager eyes. She wished she had a dictation machine with her. Gold was pouring forth from her best friend's lips - golden advice, girl chat, insights into her relationship with Yukihito, wisdom and pearls beyond measure. "Ooooooooh," Kyoko moaned. Kanae looked at her sharply, her eyes filled with concern. "I wish I had videotaped that!" Kanae rolled her eyes.

She opened her mouth to retort and scold Kyoko for not paying attention when her phone rang, interrupting her. _CHAOS_ flashed as the Caller ID and Moko scowled, shoving the phone back in her bag. "Kyoko-chan, listen-" The phone rang again. Kanae hit decline. It rang a third time.

"MO!" Kanae ripped the phone out of her bag and shoved it to her ear. "WHAT."

Kyoko smiled at her friend, LoveMe Member #2. She loved Kanae's big, wonderful, crazy family and knew that deep in her heart her best friend loved them too. Even if she employed every underhanded technique in the book to escape from them. She watched with growing concern as Moko's face paled and her hand trembled slightly. Kanae spoke a brief assent and hung up, looking at the phone and then at Kyoko.

"Kyoko-chan, I'm sorry. I have to go. My brother… he was in a car accident. He's at the hospital. My sister-in-law needs my help with the kids so she can go to be with him."

Kyoko shot out of her seat. "Now! Let's go!" She grabbed Kanae by the sleeve and pulled her out of the seat, leaving their ice cream unfinished as they raced out of the store.

"Kyoko-chan, what are you-" Kanae called out as she stumbled with an uncharacteristic lack of grace after Kyoko.

"I'm coming with you," she stated firmly. Kanae started to stutter out a rebuttal, but Kyoko shook her head firmly. "LoveMe Members stick together," she said. "And best friends even more so!" Kyoko beamed, remembering the beautiful cacophony of life awaiting her at Moko's home. Keeping that joy there in a time of need- this was a LoveMe team task indeed! The pair ran down the street together, hand in hand as they headed for Moko's house.


	60. Bitten

Ren lay in his bed, one hand covering his face while the other lay outstretched, the phone drooping from his loose fingertips. A too-short text from Kyoko shined on screen.

— Moko's - family emergency - have to help. Can't come tonighaagadd

His phone _binged_ again, spurring him to raise his head enough to check the screen.

—Sry! got attacked by small beastie child. Don't just eat ramen.

_Bing_

—Send a pic of your meal. Better be healthy.

_Bing_

—Maybe eggs?

_Bing_

—Not OAHU OMELET K

_Bing_

—And send a pic of you eating it!

Ren lay on his side, reading her rapid-fire messages with a slowly growing smile on his face. He finally sat up and started getting ready. The grocery store below surely had something he could satisfy her with.

_Bing_

—I miss you. See you on set Rusu!

An animated teddy bear waved a heart inscribed with the words "I miss you" flashing at Ren. He sighed, smiling softly. His thumb traced over the bear.

"I miss you more," he said to the empty room, letting his phone drop into his pocket as he walked out to go find something photogenic to eat.

The next day dawned bright. Ren had been up several hours before dawn, sitting cross-legged on his couch reading the script repeatedly. His entire day was taken up with shoots with Kyoko again. He smiled innocently, his head resting against his hand as he let himself relive the brightness of the day before. She was fearsome on set. Rusu stood absolutely no chance at resisting her Momiji - even if he wanted to. Which, praise Kasama-san, he had absolutely no scripted reason to do.

Ren grabbed his cup of black coffee and sat back, shuffling his papers one-handed as he sipped the hot brew that made up his breakfast. Today was The Scene. Morizumi-san had wrangled Kasama and the other writers into adding Rusu as a love interest for Momiji that was actually possible, accentuating the dilemma she faced with Shizuma and forcing her and Shizuma to clarify their commitments. Rusu became a catalyst for Momiji's romantic development and aided the audience in accepting her as a genuinely feminine character. He was thrilled for the development as far as Kyoko's career - this new spin on Momiji would open up an entire new aspect of character development for her. Mio, Natsu, and even Setsu were all beautiful indeed, but in socially unacceptable ways and with roles that never led to what society would consider "true love." _Momiji_ _and_ _Rusu_ , _however_ … Ren grinned.

 _Maybe_ _their_ _romance_ _would_ _become_ _the_ _talk_ _of_ _tabloids_ , he thought irrationally as he sipped his coffee. He would love to see their picture together in print. It lent a solidity to the dream of being with her. Ren nestled the coffee cup to his chin, letting the steam wash over his face as he thought. He was going to have to perform at his best today if he were to stand a chance of not being swept away by Kyoko's Momiji.

Ren glanced at the kitchen clock and sat up straight, setting his coffee down on the table with a rush. It was finally close enough to acceptable time to leave. Ren gathered up his script and rushed out the door, his excitement apparent. Acting with her was like an addiction. He couldn't wait to feel her move him today- and to move her. And to just feel her, who was he kidding? Ren beamed at the security guard, making the old man blink rapidly in surprise as Tsuruga shot rapidly past him and out the door.

Even with his impatience, she was still there before him. The slightly paler color of her cheeks betrayed the difficulty of the night she'd passed helping Kanae. Ren crossed the empty room to her side quickly; a frown on his face. Kyoko winced and looked up at him sheepishly. He crossed his arms and waited, secretly enjoying messing with her. He'd missed her desperately last night and wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her but she was so stinking cute when upset.

"Ren… sorry... " Kyoko yawned mid-sentence, patting the air in apology. "I - yawn - had to help Moko; her family -"

Ren caved and pulled her into a tight hug, cutting her off. "Shh, no excuses. You were where you should have been, Kyoko." He held her out at arm's length, looking over her carefully. "Are you sure you're alright to shoot today?"

Kyoko bristled at the implication. "Yes! I just need a touch more concealer," she said, rubbing her eyes. "But Momiji is used to sleep deprivation. She's had years of training in how to cope."

Ren laughed. She would assert something based on total fiction - and make it ring true with every moment on that stage. "See you on set, then," he said, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. "I cannot wait for our scene together." He expected her to blush, or maybe bluster something about purity and actor's rules as the scene included their first on-screen kiss. When she instead pulled back to look him square in the eyes and smirk, he was shocked.

"Try and keep up, Rusu," she said, her smile brilliant as she poked him playfully on the nose and turned to run away to makeup, leaving him standing there in anticipation.

Two hours later, Ren stood facing Momiji in front of the hut scenery. The actors had just taken their places for the shoot; Momiji sat upon the edge of the bed looking at the cold fireplace while Ren stood by the door, his hair loose around his bare shoulders. His cropped jacket lay on a chair by the door where he had left his sword as well, laid down after sharpening it during the last scene.

"ACTION," Morizumi called from his seat.

Rusu's eyes glinted as he looked at Momiji. Her small form looked even more delicate clothed in the simple shift he'd found for her to wear while recuperating. Only the calluses on her hands and determined set of her jaw betrayed an experience that sat heavier on her than that of men twice her age. Slowly, he walked towards her. She remained completely still as he moved; not a single twitch or glance betraying that she noticed his encroachment.

Rusu itched to make her pay attention to him. Something about her drew him like a magnet and he slowly clasped and unclasped his hands, wishing he had a sword or comfortable crossbow to wrap them around while knowing deep within his true desire was to clasp them around her smooth, bare skin. He swallowed, letting his eyes roam over her body. For weeks now he'd nursed her carefully, changing her bandage, rinsing her skin with herb-infused water, helping her retrain her muscles after the disuse. And now, she'd simply said she was leaving. Immediately. Then sat down and ignored his demands. Rusu growled under his breath, closing the distance to her side swiftly.

He sat down on the bed next to her, purposefully choosing the side she stared at. Momiji just moved her head, her face still expressionless as she stared out into the middle of the room. Rusu snarled and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Why leave, ninja?" he spoke, his voice gruff. "What awaits you but duty and bloodshed?" He ran his finger down her jawline, watching its progress across her skin intently. "I would set you free from the horror," he whispered, tracing his fingertip over her lips. "We could discover what it means to actually be alive together…"

Momiji turned and looked at him. Her eyes were blank and unfocused at first, as if she were lost in a memory. Slowly she blinked and looked at him, his finger pressed gently against her bottom lip.

Rusu's eyes widened slightly in question. Does she not remember her line? This is where she falters, thinking of Shizuma. He traced his finger back over her lips, pressing down more to force her lip open slightly, his own lips subconsciously mimicking the parting as he tried to cue her without getting an NG.

Momiji's eyes glinted as her tongue snaked out and licked his finger. She growled and nipped the very tip, sitting straighter as she bared her teeth at him. He pulled his finger away in surprise, his eyes glinting with kindled desire.

"...free?" the ninja snarled under her breath. She leaned forward, her face mere inches away from his as she pressed him down onto the bed. "Alive?" Slowly, she ran her fingers down his bare chest, tracing her hands delicately over his muscles. Rusu felt his heart start racing at her touch, his skin prickling and begging for more. She laughed, wrapping her hands around his sides and digging her nails in, making him gasp.

"Only I determine what that means, ronin," she continued, her voice deep and throaty as she glared at him. He was trapped; mesmerized by her as he lay on the bed with her above him. She wet her lips, wrapping her hand into his long hair as she leaned forward over him again.

"Shizuma…" she breathed his name once her face was close enough to Rusu's bare chest for him to feel the heat of her spoken words on his skin. He flinched at the sensation, his skin wanting to crawl at hearing her say the other man's name when she was in his bed, not Shizuma's. He reached up to grab her and pull her to his face, intent on burying Shizuma's name with his own kiss but she blocked his grip, pinning his hands above his head using mild pressure on his wrists' pressure points to subdue him. Her hair tickled his bare chest as she stared down at him.

"Shizuma needs me," she finished, her face glowing with pride. "And I need him."

Rusu managed to gasp out his next line, grimacing. "You confuse love with need!"

Momiji's eyes hardened as she looked him in the eye. She lowered herself down to hover just above him, her golden eyes filling his vision. Turning slightly, she whispered in his ear.

"A ninja neither knows nor needs love. Only duty."

Rusu snarled and ripped his hands out of her grip, grabbing her around the back of her head and pulling her roughly to him in a desperate, passionate kiss. His knuckles white against her dark hair, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he moaned into her as he begged her with his kiss to be free. Momiji let herself return his kiss, the only evidence of her passion a twitch in her grip on the sheets and the smallest of tears trickling from her eye.

She stilled above him. He moaned in negation, lifting his face, yearning for more. She sat up, turning away from him to hide the tear's betrayal. The camera zoomed in as the light perfectly caught the single tear when Momiji stood, removed her twin swords and knapsack from the shelf, and left Rusu alone on the bed, his arm draped over his eyes.

"CUT!"

The studio was silent. Ren sat up slowly and stared after her in wonder.

Every line was correct.

But the roles had been flipped.

Momiji left the victor, not the tragic victim of love denied. She had taken Rusu's role of strength and control and absorbed it, using only body language and tone to force his reactions and completely transform the scene.

Ren turned to look at Morizumi, who was sitting slack-jawed, staring at Kyoko's back as she walked away. Morizumi finally broke his gaze and looked at Ren, who just shrugged and smiled sheepishly. A brilliant grin broke out over Morizumi's face, and with a thunderous clap he reingnited the studio into feverish action, screaming for poor Kasama-san.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE MOMIJIIIIII I CANT WAIT FOR NAKAMURA SENSEI (the author of SkipBeat, which is not meee) TO DO MORE LOTUS SCEEEENESSSSSS thx for reading and commenting y'all, you make this momma's day!
> 
> A/N #2: Rusu x Momiji backstory M-rated side-fic in EMYM-Makes Me Want You collection! If that's your thing, enjoy - and blame Discord crew for its publication tonight!


	61. Aftermath

Kyoko braced her hands against her dressing room table, breathing heavily. Her entire body shook with adrenaline. She looked up at herself, her shoulders hunched and muscles rigid with the effort of self-restraint. If Kyoko was ever going to curse from overwhelming emotion, now was the time.

Instead, she bit her lip and started grinning madly. The _rush_. The pure, amazing rush of drawing another actor - of drawing _Tsuruga Ren_ \- along in her wake! Kyoko gripped her hands into fists, sliding them along the length of her dressing room table as she slowly slumped down against the cool, flat surface with a happy sigh. "I want to do it again," she said to herself, the words mumbled and unclear. She still hadn't relaxed enough to free her bottom lip from her teeth.

The door to her dressing room burst open making Kyoko shoot upwards and spin around in shock. Ren flew across the room to her side, the door crashing against the wall and bouncing off to slam shut behind him. His hands gripped her waist and clamped her against him; his mouth already devouring hers. Kyoko moaned, reaching up to ball his loose ronin jacket in her fists. She leaned back against the dressing room table, pulling him against her, throwing the full force of her adrenaline rush into the kiss. Ren's hands ran up her back, searching, shoving, craving, finally finding a gap in her kunoichi costume to slide under and touch her skin. Kyoko bit down on his bottom lip at the contact, raising her hands to the sides of his face and pull him tight to her. He wasn't close enough. Their bodies were pressing together, legs entwined, hands gripping flesh, tongues twisting and _he wasn't close enough-_

Kyoko looped her leg around his waist and pulled his hips against her, grinding hard. Ren growled, shoving his hands up farther, raking his nails over her shoulder blades, starting to wrap them around towards the front when a sharp rap on the door and a cheerful, "Mogami-san! Nice work!" echoed into the room.

Kyoko stilled but refused to release Ren. Her hands held his face tight to hers, their kiss continuing in breathless silence. She waited, her attention divided between the man surrounding her with his body and the man outside the door.

"You massacred Tsuruga in that scene," Koga's voice continued, thrilled. Ren nipped the tip of her tongue in prideful protest. His hands stopped their progress forward and moved down to her hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles on her waist that drew out a deeper ache under the ticklish touch. Kyoko pushed gently against him, her tongue tracing over his lips silently.

"Serves him right for bullying you so much- you really showed him his place on set here," Koga said. They heard a muffled thump as he leaned against the door. "Proud of you, you know," he finished, his voice trailing off in thought.

Ren's eyes glinted with a possessive gleam. Koga was pushing his boundaries. Kyoko started to speak, trying to diffuse the situation by at least acknowledging Koga and sending him away, but only managed a short, "Ko-" before Ren growled and slammed his mouth back over hers, tightening his grip on her hips. She felt her leg slipping down his as she lost control and fell back slightly, accidentally knocking her bag off the counter.

Koga heard the brief utterance and then a strange animalistic sound. "Mogami-san?" he questioned, concern edging his voice. No answer. "Everything ok?" Something thumped on the ground and he started, twisting the door knob and opening the door.

Jacket askew, hair tousled, lips red and swollen, Ren's face swung over his shoulder and locked eye contact with Koga before shoving his hands farther up Kyoko's costume and returning his lips to hers. Koga stood frozen, staring at her fingers twisting in his dark locks, their tension screaming silently of the urgent need she felt for Tsuruga. Koga staggered and turned to run out of the room with a choked apology thrown behind him into the room.

His robes tangled around his legs as he fled down the hallway. Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes but he bit them off with a curse. He was Koga Hiromune. Koga. Hiromune. Not some lovesick idiot but one of the top male stars in all of Japan - "Goddamit!" he yelled, forcing his anger to rise and smash down the disappointment. "Number two to a _pervert_! A shit actor who gets dominated on stage by a woman!" Koga stopped running and slammed his fist into the wall. He stalked back to his dressing room, ripping off his wig and robes and tossing them into a crumpled mess on the floor. His chest heaved as he stood bare before the mirror, glaring at himself. "Never. Forget. It." he snarled at himself, biting off each word. _Never forget him_ , his heart ached in reply and Koga roared at his reflection, throwing himself into a flurry of action as he dressed himself, snatched up his bag, and raced out the door.

The Annex bar was packed when Koga entered. He shoved his way across the dance floor, oblivious to the complaints raised by the men he pushed aside. He needed a drink. Immediately. An empty bar stool beckoned like a life raft and Koga sank onto it, gripping the edge of the bar. Ren's possessive, hungry face filled his mind. "Whisky," he called urgently. "Neat."

The barkeep recognized an incoming desperate man and his resulting large bill and served his drink immediately, followed by a second round. Koga threw both back then hung his head with a gasp as the fire filled his throat and belly with heat. It was too close to the heat Tsuruga evoked in him and he cursed, raising his hand for a third as he spun to look out over the crowd. Several men had already noticed him - his violent entrance, lean, muscled frame, and beautiful features made sure of that. Koga dismissed two outright, but the third… tall and slender, but with broad shoulders. The man turned as he danced, playfully watching Koga over his shoulder. _Tight ass._ His hair was unnaturally dyed a light amber, making Koga grimace, but he would suffice. Koga beckoned him over with the smallest nod over his refilled glass.

The man smiled and strode over to Koga, standing close enough Koga could feel his body heat as he ordered his own drink. Koga sipped his whisky, letting his eyes roam over the man's body. _So easy_ , he thought. _Other men are so easy. But not him. Unless_ … Koga's mind wandered as the man next to him turned to watch him, sipping his drink and playfully tracing his fingers on the counter next to Koga's hand. Koga studied the stranger. "Why me?" he asked, his voice rough. The man cocked his head and leaned in, bringing his lips close to Koga's ear.

Koga could feel his breath as he whispered, his voice conspiratorial, "I can tell you want it." Koga gritted his teeth and glared at the man. "And you're hot, so, why not give it to you?" the man playfully continued.

"I want it…" Koga murmured, dipping his finger in his glass. The other man grabbed his hand and looked intently at Koga as he licked the whisky drops off Koga's finger. Koga smirked reflexively but was lost in thought. _He could tell I wanted it,_ he thought, an inner debate raging. _Have I ever shown Tsuruga-_ the other man bit down lightly on his finger, breaking Koga's train of thought.

Sho fidgeted, rubbing his own finger across the screen of his phone over and over again as he waited impatiently for the production team to call him in for the photo shoot. Costuming had run ahead of time - turns out tight leather pants and a softly draping torn white shirt didn't take three hours to select, though the eyeliner and lip tint had taken twice as long as planned since Sho wouldn't stop jostling his leg in nervous energy - and now the team inside was scrambling to finish the setup early as well.

But no matter how many times he'd been scolded he couldn't stop moving. Every time he stopped he could _feel_ him, as real as if he was standing beside him again, pressing his hands into Sho's back with firm, even strokes, his hands so much larger than Shoko's. _Yes, Shoko! WOMAN-_ Sho scanned the room for her, catching sight of her standing by the window talking on her phone. He stared, sizing her up.

 _Definitely a lace thong on. C cups. Her hair hanging down her back, her mouth open with excitement looking at me._ Perfect. He raised his hand in front of him, shaping it around the line of her butt, pretending to squeeze. Shoko turned just then and caught him. Her eyes bulged with anger as she hurriedly ended the phone call and stalked over to Sho.

" _Do you need to be smacked,_ " she hurled at him through her clenched jaw. Sho reveled in the distraction of an argument, leaning back to grin lecherously at her.

"Depends. Would that turn you on?"

"Oh my GOD, Shoutaro-" Shoko raised her hand to whack him but let it drop. "If you weren't about to walk on stage for a photoshoot!"

Sho shrugged. "It would add a certain thematic element," he said, keeping his voice calm as he leaned forward. _Check out her boobs,_ he told himself. _Boobs are the best part of women._ Shoko grabbed his nose and twisted, making Sho howl and clasp his hands over hers.

"Fine!" he yelled, pushing her hand away. "I'll call Pochi! Screw you!"

Shoko stood upright, her arms crossed as she looked down at Sho. Her face was unreadable. She was making him extremely uncomfortable. He grabbed his phone from where it had fallen on the floor and opened his contacts to find Mimori's number.

Shoko's heeled foot tapped against the floor, drawing his attention back to her. She cocked her eyebrow at him, waiting for something. Sho drew his lips back in a mocking childish sneer, mouthing the word _what_.

"We both know who you actually want to call," Shoko said calmly.

Sho's eyes shot up to lock with hers, incredulous. "What are you-" he cut himself off. He couldn't go there.

Shoko sat down next to him, smoothing her skirt. She looked ahead, carefully avoiding eye contact with Sho as if to give him mental space. Several deep breaths later, she spoke. "When someone moves you, it's worth chasing," she said quietly, turning to look at him. Sho bit off a retort about her chasing him when they first met. No; he would wait and see what she was going to say. He found it strange how badly he wanted her to say something. Anything. _Help me,_ he felt his mind screaming as he watched her closely.

"There's no greater treasure in life than another person's heart," she said softly, letting her hand rest beside his knee on the edge of the couch. "No matter what other people may say about whether you're suited."

She smiled gently at him, patting his knee then quickly ruffling his hair before she stood. Sho just stared at the spot she had been sitting, his mind spinning.

"I'm- I'm-" he stuttered.

Shoko walked back over to the window, crossing her arms as she looked outside.

"I'm going to call Pochi and bury my face in her massive tits!" Sho yelled, balling his hands into fists as his face turned red-hot with emotion. _I will. Mimori. Giant tits. Bouncing tits. Mimori!_

His thumb hovered over her number, then swiftly scrolled up to hit a different number.

-Where are you?- he typed.

Sho hit send.

Shoko's smile turned up the corner of her mouth. "Mimori busy?" she asked over her shoulder.

Sho slammed his phone down and grabbed his guitar, punishing the strings for his own anxiety as he hammered out basic chords. Shoko turned to lean against the window and watch him, humming the tune to his new single _Chocolate_ under her breath.


	62. Short N' Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending a lovely relaxing night for Persie here with some fluffy smooches for you. Just a short ch bc that last one needed wrapping up for our horny best couple. xoxo

The click of the door roused Kyoko from the haze of lust. "Was that…?" she questioned, her eyes wide with startlement.

Ren's sheepish smile was adorably incriminating. Kyoko moaned. The second time she'd been caught on set kissing this man… she pushed him back weakly, trying to stand. Ren nuzzled her neck, murmuring soft insincere apologies.

"Ren," she reprimanded him. "This is work."

"It's not my fault," he said, gently running her long Momiji hair through his fingers. "Blame Rusu." Kyoko looked up at him suspiciously. "Do you even know how much Momiji tortures him?" he said, his voice pitched low as he gazed down at her. "How badly he wants her- and how excruciatingly difficult it is to be jerked around like a small dog on his chain when he tries to chase her. You _consume_ him," he finished, his voice trailing off. He leaned forward to kiss her gently. She let herself melt into him, but pulled back as soon as his kisses grew more insistent.

"Rusu is not real," she chided him. "Blaming these… slips… on him is like saying everything that happened to Cain Heel happened to a different person."

"Oh…?" Ren replied, his eyes bright with desire. "But you're saying it's one and the same." Kyoko paused, then nodded. "So everything that happened to Cain off set was…" Ren paused, his tone playful but his eyes searching hers.

Kyoko faltered as the totality of their time together as the Heels started to crash against her. Bold displays of affection in the marketplace, holding hands and snuggling close on trains, falling asleep in one another's arms - her face flushed as one night in particular rose to the forefront of her memory, demanding attention like a clusterbomb of soldiers with a battering ram pounding at the back of her eyes. His hips pressing against hers, her fingers tracing down his bare skin, feeling muscle after rippling muscle, spreading his shirt wide before leaning forward to bite down - her eyes involuntarily followed the course of her memory, sliding down his chest until they reached his pants line where she froze, looking up with a start. _Naked_ \- that too- then- totally wet- no bubbles- Kyoko felt like she was about to implode. Steam had to be bursting from her ears! Her eyes went slightly unfocused and she staggered, reaching out to brace herself and catching ahold not of the counter but of his arm.

She flinched like she'd touched a hot coal and gulped as she looked up at him. He was smiling, but his eyes were serious and… hungry.

"Everything, Kyoko?" he almost whispered, still waiting on her answer. She swallowed, shaking her head. It wasn't an answer, but did she even have one to give him? Did she even know what the question was anymore? She swatted at the air in front of her, trying to chase away the vision of Ren's dripping wet skin.

Ren sighed, resting his head on her shoulder. He scooped her hand up in his, the difference in size remarkable as his fingers closed completely around her small hand. "It doesn't matter _who_ I act anymore. They're all madly in love with you," he confessed. She jumped slightly as his lips touched the bare skin just above her kunoichi collar, sealing his confession with a gentle kiss. "I will try… to control myself better," he promised. "But with one condition."

Kyoko leapt at his promise. "What? What condition?"

"That you take responsibility for your part of the problem and stop being so devilishly perfect. How am I supposed to hold back when you don't even bother to try?" he turned his head slightly to look up at her, a boyish grin on his face as he rested on her shoulder. She swatted at him in mock exasperation.

"At least at work, Ren," she said firmly, her cheeks flushed from his compliment.

"I will try," he said, raising his face to look her in the eye. "Starting later." He swept her into his arms and kissed her deeply. Kyoko could feel his smile through his lips and laughed against him as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a bear hug, never once letting his mouth escape hers.


	63. On Display

Koga's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled his hand out of the man's grip to reach down and grab it. The other was dedicated to his whisky glass; a job far too important to interrupt. The man huffed playfully but turned to his own drink, swirling the straw around as he waited to recapture Koga's attention.

-Where are you?-

A simple message. Koga hesitated. Did he really want to deal with Sho right now? His immature bickering brought a certain mindlessness to their time together, but right now what he needed was release. Not a kid to shepherd.

 _On the other hand,_ Koga thought as he sipped his whisky, _a DD on hand could be useful. Especially if this guy turns out to be just another loser._ Koga eyed up the stranger next to him thoughtfully. The bleached hair confirmed the risk. Might as well line up a back up plan with the other Bleach Boy just in case this one turns out to be as immature.

-The Annex. Come get me.-

-WTF.- the reply was almost instantaneous. And incredibly predictable.

-You asked. Be responsible for the answer.- Koga smirked at his phone. Sho was definitely going to reply something ridiculous, probably with a curse word, and almost definitely shifting blame back to Koga.

-Screw yourself. Always at a bar, you drunk ass.-

Koga threw his head back and laughed. The man next to him cocked his eyebrow, running his lips suggestively along the rim of his drink as he slowly sipped, watching Koga.

-Come get me. I have pudding.-

Oh, it was just too fun for Koga. He went to sip his whisky and found the glass empty. Holding it out for a refill, his eyes glued to his phone, he almost missed the flash of anger at being ignored in the stranger's eyes beside him. He probably had about 20 minutes before Fuwa showed up. A plan for the evening's real distraction started to form in his mind. He looked the stranger fully in the eyes, sizing up his readiness. In his gut, he knew that Sho had probably figured out Koga was attracted to men - but what would the young singer do if he was confronted irrefutably with the fact? Koga bit his lip in anticipation, making the stranger smile. He could lose the game for Tsuruga with this gamble if Sho wigged out and ditched the plan, but at the moment he could care less. He just wanted to have some fun, and watching Fuwa Sho freak out was a guaranteed source of amusement.

He spent the next fifteen minutes lazily drawing the man across from him into flirtatious conversation, hinting promises, paying for drinks. Every few minutes he'd glance at the door, betraying his focus. Almost as if on cue, nineteen minutes after the countdown began, a commotion arose at the door. The bouncer tried to prevent someone from entering but was struggling. _Replay of the first day we met,_ Koga grinned. _Always forcing himself in somewhere he isn't wanted._

Sho shoved past the bouncer with a growl about straight men having rights too. He looked strangely at home there for a straight man in his tight black leather pants and the suggestive rip in his white blouse that flirted with revealing the lines of his abs. _In fact_ , Koga realized with a broad grin, _minus the rip it was suspiciously similar to the uniforms the bartender wore_. The man next to him noticed his attention shift and placed his hand over Koga's, pressing down in a bid to assert his claim. Koga waited a beat, giving Sho time to orient himself and find the bar before turning to face the man.

He still didn't know his name.

He didn't actually care.

Three more heartbeats. The disdainful shouts from the dancefloor told Koga that Sho was crossing it, retracing the steps Koga took earlier.

Two more heartbeats.

Koga leaned forward, his eyes hooded suggestively as he finally made eye contact with his bar partner. The man licked his lips as his eyes fell slightly closed, reading Koga's body language to perfection. Koga finished his movement and sealed his lips against the other man's with passion just as Sho broke through the crowd on the dance floor and came face to face with the pair.

Koga could feel him staring and it sent an unexpected shock of heat through his body. He leaned forward further, deepening the kiss with a moan. The man raised his hand, about to wrap his arm around Koga when suddenly the space in front of Koga went empty. Chaos erupted when Fuwa's fist collided with the man's face with a sickening thud. Fuwa released his grip on the man's shirt where he'd pulled him suddenly back and away from Koga and into his fist. He shoved the man away to stumble into the bar, disoriented. Sho grabbed Koga roughly and dragged him off by force. Koga's mind was whirling in confusion. Koga clung to habit and ripped several large bills out of his wallet, throwing them onto the bar to close his tab before he was pulled out of reach. He could hear the bartender calling out in alarm and see the shock and pain on the face of the man he'd spent the last hour chatting up. The man clutched his face and spun around pointing at Sho and Koga and starting to yell.

Sho wasn't supposed to do that.

He was supposed to freak out. Or run. Or say something stupid and vulgar about homos.

 _Not_ -

Koga twisted, shoving Sho's hand off his shoulder and pushing his way out of the bar on his own power. He walked as quickly as his legs would carry him down the street and around the corner; they had to get away before the chaos inside was sorted out and they came out to find Sho.

"What the f*** was that, Fuwa?!" Koga exploded once they were out of range.

Sho's face was red and his chest heaved with the effort of his self-control. "Do you even KNOW him?" he threw at Koga, the force of his emotion making his voice shake. "Or is this all just a f***ing _game_ to you, Hiromune?"

"YES. Yes, it is a game!" Koga said coldly. "What else would it be?" he sneered at Sho, grinding his teeth together. "Do you think I can take any of this seriously? That any of it could possibly mean anything to me?"

"I thought- f*** it, I don't know what I thought, but _that_ shit is not you," Sho yelled, his voice taut with anger. He moved towards Koga as he spoke, his hands in tightly held fists.

"And you know who I am, I suppose," Koga taunted. "You know me _so well_ after just a few weeks." Sho was a few short steps away from him now, his hair askew with pieces falling over the closely shaven sides. The perfectionist in Koga wanted to reach up and tuck them back in - or just rip them out. Sho bit his tongue, his chest rising and falling with each breath he forced in and out.

"Ass. I'm taking you home," Sho said, his tone derisive as he hailed a taxi. "And then you can forget about any stupid _plans_."

 _Ah,_ Koga thought, _at least that part panned out as I thought it would._ He sniffed, staring at Sho's back as they waited on a taxi to pull over. He found himself wondering in the silence if the shirt material was as soft as it looked.

"Why are you dressed like that?" he asked, not really caring but tired of the silence. Silence opened opportunity for thinking. Thinking was not best entertained tonight.

Sho looked at him over his shoulder, his face clearly expressing a _Are-You-Insane_ look. "I am supposed to be at a photoshoot right now," he said simply.

"Supposed to?" questioned Koga, walking forward to stand next to Sho. He was only about six inches taller, but it was enough to see every emotion clearly displayed on his face even if he tried to turn and hide it. Sho didn't answer.

"You left to come get me?" Koga asked, his voice rising in disbelief.

"No, ass, I left to come get pudding," Sho said petulantly. Koga stared at him, his mouth hanging open partially. His thoughts tried to race but kept coming out sluggish and unresponsive. Apparently his mind only worked well tonight if processing the way Tsuruga- _no. No thinking._

"Make me dinner," he heard himself say.

"WTF." Sho threw his hands in the air in mock disbelief.

"I don't have pudding. Might as well make the trip worth your time. Make me dinner," Koga said, shoving his hands in his pockets. Sho turned to stare up at him, his brows knitted in frustration.

"You stupid prick-" he scrubbed his hands on his face, smearing his eyeliner slightly. Koga reached over to smooth it off reflexively. When his finger touched skin, Sho jumped, flinching back away from the simple contact.

"Shh, hold still," Koga admonished, turning to fully face Sho. He wrapped one hand around the back of Sho's head to force him to stay still, feeling the soft prickliness of his close cropped hairstyle beneath his palm. His face was masked in concentration as he used the corner of his finger to run slowly along the underside of Sho's eye, smoothing away the imperfections in his eyeliner. He came to the edge of his eyelid and paused, his hand resting against Sho's face. He could feel the warmth of his skin against his finger. The tickle of his breath on his upturned wrist. Koga met Sho's eyes, the younger man's eyes thick with some unclear emotion as he stared at Koga.

A taxi pulled up and Sho smacked away Koga's hand, turning to almost run for the back door of the cab. Koga followed after him, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. He slid into the backseat next to Sho. Without looking at him, he spoke. "Make me dinner."

Sho was facing away from him, his face resting on his fist as he looked out of the window, but still Koga knew the exact moment when he unfroze and nodded wordlessly.


	64. Unfocused

The street lights passed in strange blurs like fairy lanterns smeared across the front of buildings before Sho's unfocused eyes. The only imprint the scenery left on his mind was the small purplish dots obscuring his vision when the taxi slowed and a brighter light marred his perception. The rest of his consciousness was trapped in the dark haze of the bar, watching the muscles in Koga's jaw flex as he kissed another man.

Sho swallowed and gritted his teeth. The movement made his own jaw flex against his fist, a subtle reminder that he, too, was a man. The taxi slowed for a red light. Sho could see couples walking by on the busy street, arms linked; the women smiling, looking up at their partner. Some of the men proud and tall, almost cocky. Others more humble, slower, attentive. Every single pair - a woman and a man.

Koga was gay. Sho stared out the window, cataloguing the now-obvious evidence he'd chosen to ignore. The touches, the sexuality, the goddamn poster. He didn't want Tsuruga Ren for his career. He wanted him for his- Sho scraped his fingers down his cheek, cutting off his own thoughts.

 _So what?_ he flung at himself. _I'm man enough to be friends with a gay._ Sho grimaced at his own asinine thoughts. He dug his fingernails into his skin, leaving small red half-moon prints. With a sigh he sat back, plopping against the worn leather of the car seat. Koga sat beside him, his hands calm on his lap and face expressionless, watching the traffic light in front of their taxi. Sho studied him out of the corner of his eye, his own arms folded protectively across his chest. The city night made Koga look more pale than usual, his jawline shaded and slender. Sho's eyes were drawn to the spot just below his cheekbone where the skin had dipped in when he deepened the kiss, moaning. Sho felt his stomach twist and clenched his fist, wishing he had a beer to wrap his hand around.

"I don't care," he said, breaking the silence of the too-quiet car. Koga's eyes never left the traffic light. He only blinked once it turned green, moving his eyes down to watch the lane markings instead.

"Gay or not," Sho continued awkwardly. "I don't care."

"Congratulations," Koga drawled. "Would you like an award?"

Sho bit his tongue, frustrated. Everything he could think of to say only made it sound worse. _It's fine to_ _be gay_. Of course it is, prick. _I would be if I was_ _born_ _that_ _way_. Again, what? _I don't think less of you_. Was that even an option? _Just don't kiss me._

Sho licked his lips. _Just_ _don't_ …

"What are you making for dinner?" Koga interrupted him, his eyes still tracing the progress of the lane markings from the darkness forward. Sho scrubbed his face with his hands, mussing his hairstyle up farther but past caring.

"Unh," he shrugged into his palms. "All I really know how to make it instant noodles."

Koga finally turned to look at him, rolling his eyes. "How old are you?"

Sho sneered at him. "Old enough to have the money to hire a cook," he mocked. Koga stared him down. "God, fine. Seventeen," he spat out, his eyes daring Koga to question him. Koga's eyes went round for a moment, then closed in a pain-laced small frown. When he reopened his eyes, his expression was more gentle than any Sho had seen aimed at him yet.

"I'll teach you," Koga said simply. Sho stared at him, baffled, but nodded.

The taxi pulled up outside Koga's apartment and Koga reached up to pay for the fare. Sho got out and walked around the cab, his hands stuffed awkwardly into his too-small pockets. He should have taken time to change. The night air kept giving him goosebumps through his thin shirt, and the jagged rip in it certainly didn't help. Koga led the way upstairs; Sho carefully following several paces behind, out of reach.

Once in the apartment, Koga strode into the kitchen and rummaged through several cabinets, pulling out two aprons - one the same blue and white bow-decked apron Sho wore before and another a significantly more benign taupe and gray bib type. Sho reached for the plain apron but stopped when Koga raised his eyebrow at him. Pouting, he redirected his hand and snatched the blue apron, clumsily tying the large bow around his back. Koga took a deep, accentuated breath and walked around behind Sho. He pulled the bow out with a sharp tug and carefully retied it, smoothing the fabric around Sho's waist and cinching it tight.

Sho felt his nerves kick in at the first tug to untie. "What-" he spat out, his hands raising to stop Koga. He was inches away from touching the bare skin of Koga's arm when he quickly shifted his hands' movement to rub at the back of his neck. Koga finished and walked back to the counter, ignoring Sho's protest.

"First, _mise en place_ ," Koga said firmly.

"What in place?" Sho frowned.

Koga turned to look at him, gesturing at the collection of small finger bowls, mixing bowls, and cutting boards he had gathered. "Mise en place," he said calmly. "Get your shit together."

Sho swallowed a laugh, nodding as he stepped forward.

"If you don't start with everything prepped, you'll never make it through cooking without scorching something or letting sauce over-thicken," Koga explained as he measured herbs and spices carefully into the small bowls. "Like life. Get your shit together before you leap, or you'll get burned."

Sho smiled a crooked smile, reaching out to grab a knife and help cut onions. Koga grabbed his hand, stopping him. A swift blush flew over Sho's cheeks and he dropped the knife in reaction. Koga tsked him, picking the knife up from the counter and moving it and a cutting board in front of Sho.

"Don't just grab one of my knives," he said firmly. "I have a feeling you've no idea how to use it." Sho shrugged.

"I mean, hold the flat side and push down on the sharp side," he said, his voice playful. Koga looked at him sarcastically. He held his own knife up and made several short, swift cuts that lay an onion open and diced in a matter of seconds. Sho's eyes bulged. He almost clapped, but caught himself. Grabbing his own knife up again, he went to hack at the onion before being stopped suddenly by Koga's strangled cry.

"F*ck, Sho, do you want to lose a finger?!" Koga moved around behind Sho. He reached out and placed his hand over Sho's on the knife hilt, then wrapped his other arm around Sho to curl his fingers over Sho's, forcing them up and back inside his own hand to grip the onion in a strange tightly wound anchor grip. He could've hacked off Sho's finger right then and Sho probably wouldn't have noticed. The adrenaline coursing through his body was making him shake as Koga's arms surrounded him and his chest pressed against his back. Koga started to talk but the words seemed mumbled to Sho. He looked up, trying to focus on what Koga was saying, and his vision landed directly on the small secret hollow in Koga's cheek.

"Shit!" he said, shoving off the counter and pushing Koga off him. The knife clattered to the counter, one long slice cut across the onion. Sho's chest heaved with his deep, forced breaths as he looked anywhere and everywhere except at Koga.

Koga stood back, his hands up in surprise. "Did you get cut?" he asked, a touch of concern edging the confusion in his voice.

"No, shit, I- ah," Sho turned back to the counter, refusing to meet Koga's eyes. "I can cut it. Just don't- just don't touch me." His voice trailed off into a mumble. Koga's hands fell slowly to his sides. Sho felt the energy leave the room as Koga retreated, his apron making a soft sloughing sound as he pulled if off and tossed it over the back of the sofa. Sho gripped the edge of the counter with his hands. "Are you leaving?"

"Going to get some beer," Koga said curtly. "Finish dinner." The door shut softly behind him and Sho sagged against the counter, the onion's scent stinging his eyes and drawing hot tears from him. He cursed and scrubbed at his face, clumsily chopping the onion and throwing it in a bowl. The empty get-your-shit-together bowls mocked him. He had no idea what to fill them with. Sho grabbed his phone. He hesitated for a moment, trying to summon up the willpower to search for a recipe. His hand shook slightly and he threw the idea out, dialing a delivery service. A hot meal and admitting he couldn't cook was better than a hospital trip for losing a finger.

Koga sank softly against the outside of the door. Seventeen. He closed his eyes, torn between grimacing and guffawing. He settled for a strangled laugh and shoved off, stumbling slightly as he made his way to the elevator.

His reflection stared back at him in the silver shine of the elevator doors as they closed after him. The eyes were too soulless for his liking — he firmed his jaw, loosening his lips slightly to shift his expression from soulless to haughty. He couldn't make himself get used to it. He didn't want to. Coming out to someone… it's just better to expect the worst. Not mocking or cursing these days. It wasn't the 50s.

These days it was awkwardness. An "oh, I'm cool with that" preface to a lifetime of excuses to not touch, not hang out solo, not make direct eye contact. Koga stared his reflection in the eyes. He knew what would happen and he still did it. For entertainment.

"Fuck's sake," he growled at himself. "Grow up."

Twenty minutes later he found himself back outside his own door. Inside was quiet. Maybe Sho had gone home; evening's entertainment done. Koga's lips twisted. That would be for the best. Their friendship — if it could be labeled even that — could end here. He gripped the handle of the plastic bag tightly, wadding it up in his fist before shoving the door open.

A completely disheveled blonde pompadour stuck up over the back of the couch. It moved at the sound of the door opening and revealed unexpectedly expected bright blue eyes beneath. Those eyes looked directly at Koga without smiling.

"Dinner's cold," Sho said.

"Beer is too," Koga replied, chuffing his shoes off and padding over to the couch in his house slippers.

Sho grunted and shifted over, making room for Koga on the couch. Koga clunked the beers down on the low table, grabbing one and opening it, chugging one long drink before plopping on the floor in front of the couch. Sho's hand held out a bento box to him full of fried chicken and rice.

"Whisky," he said as he bit off the end of a chicken strip. Sho grunted, pointing at the bottles of beer on the table.

"You got beer, idiot." He reached out to grab one but Koga smacked his hand away. Sho snarled and snatched a bottle quickly, slamming it down on the edge of the table to open it.

Koga cursed under his breath at the tiny dings in the side of his table. "Not for tonight," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "For Ren." Sho's back stiffened as Tsuruga's given name crossed Koga's lips. Koga continued, pausing to take bites of his chicken as if to reinforce the casual nature of the conversation. "Tomorrow is Ren's last day on Lotus. The day after, your MV shoot.

You have Kyoko at the shoot. Ren's alone. Probably upset," he stopped, chewing. "I'll have him over here to celebrate Lotus. I'll make sure we have plenty of 18 year whisky."

Sho stared at the top of Koga's head. "Whisky…" he said, his voice trailing off. Koga leaned back on the couch, letting his head fall back to look up at Sho.

"Do you need me to spell out what happens when two mutually attracted men add some whisky to the evening?" Koga said, his voice husky. His jaw was tight with self-restraint as he tried to force the images of Ren and Kyoko out of his mind. There was no way in hell such a simple plan would work unless this immature, unlikely manchild could actually steal Kyoko away in one afternoon and Ren's love life fell apart before his eyes.

He watched as small beads of sweat broke out near Sho's temples, the singer's eyes fixated strangely on a spot just above Koga's jawline. Probably just far enough down to guarantee not meeting my eyes again, he scoffed to himself. Seventeen. Koga sighed, letting his head fall back down to rest his chin on his chest. The plan wouldn't work to catch Tsuruga, but it just might work to set Sho at ease. It's not you I want, he wanted to scream. Please just relax.

"You get Kyoko, and I get Ren," he said, shoving his rice around the box with his chopsticks. "Everyone goes home happy."

A snapping sound made Koga's head jerk up in reflex. Sho sat on the couch, his eyes unfocused, a broken chopstick clenched in his fist. "Go home," he muttered. He stood, tossing the half-eaten bento on the table. The broken chopsticks followed, clattering against the hard surface and rolling off onto the floor. "Gladly."

Koga didn't reply, just reached over and stole a tender from Sho's box, munching on the crispy end. Sho turned and walked out, kicking his house slippers off to bounce against the entryway wall. The door shut behind Sho before Koga sagged, spitting out the cold chicken and reaching for another beer.


	65. Whisky and Men

Sho's head hung down, his eyes closed and hands hanging loosely between his legs. He felt like his brain was on a sick carnival ride, revisiting the same scenery again and again ever since he saw Koga at the bar. He smashed his hands against his face, scrubbing at his skin trying to wake himself up. He couldn't stop seeing the way Koga's lips pressed against the other man's mouth. Seeing that small spot flexing in on his jawline. Seeing the way his lips took on a strange and sudden softness as they melded with the man's, pressing together in desire.

Angrily, he bit down on his palm, wanting the pain to snap him out of his dilemma. Instead, his mouth filled with the taste of his own skin and he flushed, the taste and feel catapulting him back to that first night and chocolate.

Sho shoved off the couch, his fingers twitching with the ache to feel Koga's mouth wrapped around them again. "Shit," he said under his breath. "I need a drink."

Do you need me to spell out for you what happens when two mutually attracted men add whisky to the evening?

Sho bit his lip. What the fuck what that even supposed to mean? Two men plus whisky just means two drunk-ass men that stink of Ireland. Right? He walked into his kitchen, his feet bare on the cold tile floor. Reaching up to the high cabinet where Shoko kept the liquor - seemed like a weird place for it, but she always insisted it be just barely in his reach even though it forced her to use a stepstool to get anything - made his shirt come untucked. Sho growled, ripping it off over his head and throwing it at the sink. Stupid flowy girl shirt. He reached up again, his fingers brushing against the largest bottle. Vodka.

Wouldn't do. He shoved it aside with his fingertips and patted the cabinet shelf, searching blindly for the other bottles. With a huff, Sho gave in and pushed himself up on the counter, kneeling on the countertop. He shifted the front bottles out of the way and found it, there in the back. 18-year Oban whisky. Hefting the bottle, he turned in place and plopped down on the counter. His feet tapped lightly against the bottom cabinet doors as he examined the label on the bottle.

"An elegantly matured single malt that balances opulent fruit flavours with rich peat smoke and spicy wood, culminating in a long, smooth, finish," he read aloud, trying to make his voice lilt in a sufficiently Scottish manner. "Sounds weird," he said with a smirk. He reached back over his shoulder with one hand and nabbed a glass from the shelf, twisting open the bottle and pouring a generous jigger-worth into the glass. He held the glass aloft, peering through the whisky. Its amber color reminded him obnoxiously of Kyoko's eyes.

At least she's a girl, he thought to himself. "I'll cheer to that," he said to the empty room, lifting his glass in salute to the tiny tits gracing Kyoko's chest. He threw back the whisky and immediately started coughing, sliding off the counter. "Ah- burns-" he gasped, holding his chest. His eyes watered as he leaned back against the counter, feeling the heat creep down his chest along with the alcohol.

"Fruity my ass," he groaned as another cough escaped him. "Why would anyone want to drink this?" Koga's face swam into his vision as he heard the actor's words repeated. "And why does he think this will work for trapping Ts-" Sho cut himself off, turning and pouring another glass.

Fire lanced through his throat and crept its way down to his belly as he threw another shot back, letting his mind wander again. He braced himself against the counter. He would work this out of his system tonight and be back to normal. God, he thought as he gasped. He never makes it look like it burns this badly. Sho's head spun as he poured a third glass, gripping his cup more clumsily than before. Setting the bottle down as far away from the edge of the counter as possible, Sho strolled back into his living room.

"Shoko's going to kill me when she gets back tomorrow," he said to the empty room, chuckling. "She was saving this for some special occasion." He held the glass up and spun around with it, looking at the room through the amber liquid. "Tonight is special enough, right?"

With a thump Sho plopped on the couch, leaning back over the armrest. It wasn't as comfy as the one at Koga's place. Shoko put too much stock in decorative value and not enough in what really mattered: plushiness. Sho scootched lower, letting his imagination put him back at Koga's apartment as he rested his still-full whisky glass on the floor next to him.

The last time he'd laid out on the couch at Koga's, it hadn't been whisky burning him. Sho's hand crept over his bare chest, his face still. Koga's hands were bigger than his by a few inches. Maybe he'd been trained in massage before; with hands that size it would be a waste not to, right? Sho smiled to himself. Obviously that training was why it felt so damn good. He pressed his own hand down, tracing it over his chest in slow, even strokes. He tried to remember the feeling of Koga's weight bearing down on him as his hands had massaged his back with even strokes. He could remember how his heart had pounded and wondered if Koga had been able to feel it through his back. Sho rolled on his side, curling up slightly.

What am I doing? he thought. Think of women. A hot, sexy, fucking massive-breasted woman. Sho sat up, spreading his legs wide. He needed to end this. He fumbled slightly with the unfamiliar zipper on his leather pants, shifting as he drew himself out. She had huge tits, brown bouncing ones, kneeling in front of him. He started to stroke himself, his eyes closed in concentration. She would trace her hands down his legs, her face and hands moving closer inch by inch to his center. Sho moved his own hand down, following her imaginary path as he stroked. She'd stop and grin up at him when her face got just in front of his-

"Fuck," Sho gasped, his eyes shooting open and his hand flying back. His shithead of a brain -for once he agreed with Kyoko- had switched it. Big tits girl didn't look up at him. Koga did. A sadistic grin lit Koga's face as he licked his lips and drew his large hands down Sho's legs, never breaking eye contact. Sho felt his dick twitch and he closed his eyes again, his hand drawn like a magnet to himself.

"Fuck," he repeated, breathing heavily as his hand wrapped around his shaft. Try small tits girl. Small tits. Flat ones, even though they don't bounce much. But with perfect sensitive nipples still. Just like Koga's, hard and firm and tight beneath my hands as I grip him. Sho groaned, giving up. Just this once he'd let himself go; let himself work it completely out of his system. He started to stroke himself, relaxing his grip on his imagination even as he tightened his grip on his shaft.

Koga's breath was hot on his tip as he hovered over him, teasing him, his fingers kneading the inside of Sho's legs. A flick of the tongue on the underside made Sho shiver and curse, arching his back against the couch.

"Whisky and men," Koga murmured before he ducked slightly and swirled his tongue around the tip of Sho's erection, his teeth just barely grazing the sensitive skin. Sho panted in heady desperation as Koga's lips surrounded his tip, sucking gently. He could feel his member get sticky with precum. His face was hot, sweat already breaking out around his temples as he grit his teeth against his own awakening desire.

Slowly, the heat of Koga's mouth enveloped Sho's erection. His hands shifted to grip under Sho's thighs as he held him tightly ensnared. Sho trembled, his eyes sealed shut against the overwhelming vision.

"Look at me," Koga demanded, his voice rumbling. Sho forced his eyes open to see Koga kissing up the side of his erection, his eyes boring into Sho's. "Own this," Koga growled, coming to the end of Sho's shaft and sucking him inside.

Sho gritted his teeth against his own moan, thrusting his hardness up into Koga's mouth. He could feel his tongue swirl around him, his throat close tightly as he sucked. Sho tried to hold himself down, gripping the edge of the couch in a desperate bid to hold on to reality but his hips kept pressing up harder, faster, deeper into Koga's throat. He could feel himself close to the edge already, starting to buck against Koga rapidly. Koga moved down, shifting his tongue and his lips as he sucked. He moaned once in the back of his throat, his fingertips pressing into Sho's ass. Sho exploded with a shout, his head thrown back and leg sliding down with the intensity of the burst. The whisky glass fell over with a clang, slamming Sho back to reality. His hand was sticky with his own seed, the other still clenched tightly around the edge of the couch as he sat there panting. He smelled the sharp tang of whisky in the air as it soaked quietly into the carpet.

Sho moaned, flopping backwards onto the couch. His face felt like it was on fire. He released his hand from the edge of the sofa to bury his face in it then shoved himself up off the couch. The whisky made his head swirl as he stood, shakily making his way to the bathroom to clean up.

It didn't take long for the water to heat up. Sho stood in the shower, letting the water wash over him, wash it all away drip by drip. He braced himself against the wall of the shower, his hair plastered to his face. He shifted the water temperature down, desperate to stop the flush he felt still covering his face.

He had just jerked off to a man. He balled his hand into a fist and slammed it against the wall. Not just a man. A friend. Koga.

Sho's eyebrows knit together in frustration as the mere thought of his name caused his blood to rush and his cock to twitch eagerly. "Fuck," he yelled at himself in disgust. If this was how he was going to react every time a friend told him he was gay, he would definitely be staying far away from whisky. And men.


	66. Unveiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most would be flattered to have two people "fighting" over them. Momiji wants them to actually be fighting. Preferably to the death. —Aikori

Ren smiled at her from off-stage, his stage makeup scar creasing slightly with the movement. She blushed and bit her lip as she smiled back, turning away quickly to fidget with something on the prop table. Today was his last day on set. His eyes drank in her slender form. Watching her work was intoxicating — the joy she brought to _Lotus_ was palpable, a wave of energy that radiated out from her everywhere she walked, infecting each person with whom she interacted. Backs straightened, movements quickened, passion ignited. Could she see it too?

Ren shook his head in silent, joyful denial. There was no way she knew. For one, if she knew she was such a potent influence she'd be riddled with embarrassment. In her eyes, she was "just a talento" still. Lory's decision to not have her debut yet was a heavy influence on her self-worth as an actress, and until she was set free from LoveME to be a full fledged star Ren didn't think she'd ever seriously consider herself an influencer.

She was a fascinating study in contrasts this morning. Her dark kunoichi head wrap and long ponytail blending into the black wrappings standard for Momiji clashed startlingly with the bright humor filling her amber eyes. She laughed, the ponytail swinging across her back, delicate fingers sweeping her bangs to the side as she spoke to a poor flustered cameraman. Ren waited on his entrance mark. He knew she had a trigger— they were scheduled to start filming in ten minutes and sometime between now and then Momiji would consume her. His appearance hadn't switched her. Morizumi was even present, discussing the script heatedly with the diligent Kasama-san.

Koga walked in, his features set in determination. His long ash gray robes swirled around slippered feet as he strode over towards her. Ren saw the switch then. Without turning around she had recognized his entry. Her back straightened, shoulders formed down and back, head raised in alertness. Ren watched the cameraman blanch as she shifted; he bowed slightly, mumbling a word of polite departure as she turned to face Shizuma. Her eyes were hard and possessive, the humor subsumed by fire. Momiji had risen.

Ren shifted his weight, planting his feet firmly beneath him as he watched Shizuma come to a standstill next to her. The pair exchanged brief words; Momiji bowed her head slightly, her hands clasped in acknowledgment. Ren felt a rising tide of jealousy. She blushed and smiled for him— but she transformed for Koga.

 _Let it flow into Rusu_ , he told himself, closing his eyes to internalize this feeling. A need to consume— to possess— to steal her away and mark her as his but confronted by an undeniable proof that she had already marked herself as someone else's. Rusu's eyes opened. He watched them, letting his fury and lust radiate out from him. He didn't care if the world knew he was an owned man. He needed _her_. Not the world.

Shizuma looked over, catching Rusu's glare. Morizumi-san's call to action went almost unheard, barely registering in the actors' subconscious. The lights flickered as the stage crew placed the forest filter over the bright lamps. Shizuma walked forward, leaving Momiji in the shadows. He stopped midway near a giant boulder, his hands hanging in tight fists by his side. Rusu waited, watching him from the edge of the clearing.

Suddenly, Shizuma bowed towards Rusu. "Thank you, sensei," he said with a clear, strong voice. "You saved my life."

Rusu growled, stalking forward out of the shadows to stand opposite Shizuma, his hand braced on the hilt of his sword. "Why bring up the past again? It is today I need from you," he barked.

"It is today I speak of, sensei," Shizuma said, his eyes suddenly springing to life though nothing else changed in his posture.

"I saved the kunoichi, not you," Rusu said, his voice thick with emotion as he took a step towards Shizuma. "Where is she?"

Shizuma nodded, his bearing peaceful but his eyes full of challenge. "As I said, you saved my life." He paused, his eyes fixated on Rusu's. "Momiji is mine, Rusu-san."

Rusu's thumb flicked at his sword hilt, bearing an inch of blade in threat. "She is no man's."

Shizuma spread his hands wide, opening himself up before Rusu. "And yet," he said, his face still calm, "she is not by your side." Rusu snarled and unsheathed his blade fully, holding it pointing down. His hand shook with the intensity of his self-control.

"She is not by yours either, ronin," he spat out.

"Her lineage, her vows, her duty speak otherwise," Shizuma retorted, anger creeping into his voice.

"She is not property!" Rusu roared. "Set her free and she will choose me— she cannot choose you."

Shizuma finally let his hand rest on his sword hilt, squaring off with Rusu. "You are mistaken. It is you she cannot choose."

"You do not love her!" Rusu yelled, raising his sword. His sight of Shizuma was sliced in two by the sword-length, a vision of final fracturing of allegiance and brotherhood if he could not have his desires.

Shizuma stood still and silent, measuring Rusu. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword as he weighed him, crouching slightly in preparedness to defend or strike.

"Nevertheless," a voice as still as moonlight rang from the shadows. Momiji walked out between the two men, her eyes devoid of emotion but her upright bearing screaming pride and self-control. She turned to face Rusu, shielding Shizuma with her body. Bowing to Rusu, a small flicker of passion crossing behind her eyes as she made eye contact. It was the only betrayal of any emotion felt at all. "I am Shizuma's."

Shizuma sheathed his sword and rose up from fighting stance, waiting for Momiji to reach his side. He extended his hand towards her wordlessly. She stared down at it and slowly placed hers inside, his palm dwarfing her delicate but deadly hands. The pair turned away from Rusu.

Rusu staggered a step forward, his knuckles white on his sword. "He does not love you!" he cried, his voice haggard. Momiji's shoulders twitched at his words, but she neither turned around nor acknowledged his call, walking forward in pace with her master. Shizuma's hand gripped hers tightly, too tightly, causing pain to shoot up her arm as he walked stiffly beside her. They reached the darkness of the forest and, just before disappearing from view, Shizuma dropped her hand, his fingers stretching in reaction against the unfamiliar contact.

A roar cut through the forest as Rusu dropped to his knees, slamming his sword blade-first into the ground. The camera zoomed in on his face, his eyes hungry and jaw taut with anger.

" _I will have her_ ," he breathed out, the words heavy with curse and promise.

"CUT," Morizumi called, clapping. "Excellent work - five minute break - keep the tension, everyone! Crew, reset for Scene 482, Night!" The stage erupted in action as Ren rose slowly to his feet. He stalked off in the opposite direction from Kyoko and Koga; if he were to keep his rage focused the last thing he could see was her smile.

He paced in the back hallway, crew members crossing the hallway to maintain distance from him as he waited for the call. _One more scene_. The memory of her walking away from him, hand-in-hand with another man rotted in his belly. He wanted to rip their hands apart. He wanted to bury him. To destroy him. His hand twisted around his sword hilt. _Set her free._

"Places!" the summons rang out and Rusu gritted his teeth.

"Finally," he growled, shoving open the door into the studio.

Shizuma sat cross-legged before the small cooking fire, his stone cup cradled in his hands. His thumb smoothed over the rough texture of the rim, his eyes absently staring into the red-orange flames. The night was silent except for the crackle of the fire. Momiji's pack lay beside his on the ground, but the ninja herself was absent. Shizuma threw the rest of the contents of his cup onto the fire with a sizzle and stood with a stretch.

He turned to head for his sleeping roll when a dark shadow loomed close in front of him. Shizuma reacted swiftly, reaching into his sleeve to withdraw a short blade and raise it in time to deflect the down-slicing sword. His attacker never recoiled, pressing forward into Shizuma's defense recklessly with a second hacking swing. Shizuma barely managed to parry it away from his face, his fingers going numb from the blunt force slamming against his smaller blade. He stepped back, closer to the fire, ducking under a third swing. He grabbed dirt and flung it up as he spun low, his leg snaking out to try and knock his opponent down. The man jumped up, flipping over Shizuma and landing noiselessly on the opposite side of the fire.

The flames lit Rusu's face in garish caricature as he snarled at Shizuma. The two slowly circled the fire, eyes bound to one another across the leaping flames. Suddenly Rusu tensed, then sprang forward with a side-step around and across the fire's base, the heat singeing his hakama. Shizuma leapt backwards, striving to keep enough space between them to render Rusu's longer blade ineffective, but Rusu pressed forward in a powerful rush and grabbed Shizuma by the collar, slamming him down into the ground, falling purposefully on top him to pin his chest with his full weight.

"I will have her," he snarled under his breath, "no matter the cost."

Shizuma struggled, reaching out as far as he could, his fingertips scrabbling in the dirt for his fallen blade. Rusu reached down, his fingers wrapping around Shizuma's neck as he leaned forward. "Even at the price of you," he whispered, his face hovering just about Shizuma's as he bared his teeth, his hands tightening around Shizuma's neck. Shizuma kicked up, pressing his hips against Rusu's weight, slamming his hands into his arms. Rusu absorbed his attacks, each blow making his body shudder with the impact but never shifting the grip of his hands or the intent focus of his gaze. Shizuma's face started to redden and Rusu leaned down, his lips grazing Shizuma's forehead. Shizuma felt his vision start to go black, his sight narrowing to just the bright haze of Rusu's eyes, _so close-_ Shizuma's hand clenched around loose dirt and he flicked his wrist, sending a spray of pebbles and dust into Rusu's eyes. Rusu coughed, his hand raising instinctively to protect himself, freeing Shizuma's throat. Shizuma rolled out from under him onto his knees, gasping for air as he crawled away.

A pair of black leather boots filled his vision. He rasped out a quick, " _Rusu_ \- _stop him_ -" before collapsing as Momiji's feet flew over him.

"CUT!" Morizumi yelled, a single clap followed by greedy hand-rubbing greeting the actors as they slowly stood, recovering from the scene. Kyoko beamed at Ren brightly then turned to help Koga up, her hand extended down to him. Koga seemed surprised at the offer, blinking in dismay at her hand before reaching out and grabbing her as he stood. Kyoko patted him on the shoulder, offering her congratulations for the successful fight scene.

Koga shook his head lightly in negation, looking at Ren across the stage. "It was a team effort," he said matter-of-factly. "Tsuruga-san," Koga paused, searching for words as a blush seared across his face. _Tsuruga-san what? Has the most firm inner thighs, perfect for wrapping around my chest? Soft lips, delicate but hot against my forehead? Strong, overly large hands, wrapped around my throat, cutting off sensations one by one until all I'm aware of is him and his hands and his presence…_ His mind flooded with the unforeseen intimacy of the moment. Tsuruga's body pressing down on his, his own blood ringing in his ears, everything narrowing slowly to just the power of the man straddling him.

Kyoko looked at him strangely. "Tsuruga-san… what, Koga-san?" Koga bit his lip for a moment before recovering, trying to pass it all off.

"Tsuruga-san is an outstanding actor, truly Japan's #1," he said, though it galled him bitterly.

"True," Kyoko said, pondering, "and yet not what I think you were going to say." She studied Koga. "You look… flushed."

Koga scoffed at her. "Fight scene, of course I'm flushed. Our choreographers push our limits; don't they."

"Not that type of flushed," Kyoko said innocently, still examining him closely. His eyes were averted but unmistakably full of a fearful longing. "Ah! That's it! You've got the same look I do when I meet the Emperor!" she crowed, full of pride over her own deductive skills.

Koga rolled his eyes at her. "As if you've met Japan's Emperor," he said coldly. "A mere talento."

"Not that Emperor," she said, laughing. "The one Tsu- oh, never mind, I don't really think you care to get into this with me. At least I figured it... out..." she finished, her words starting to trail off more and more slowly as she spoke. She stopped suddenly and looked directly at Koga, then over at Ren. Back to Koga.

"You-" she started, pointing from Koga to Ren.


	67. Research Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The souffle wobbled nervously in tense anticipation of the fallout of Kyoko's "experimental" antics. —Aikori

Koga stared at her for a heartbeat, then turned with a scowl and walked away swiftly. Kyoko watched him go, her hand still outstretched to point at Ren.

"You met the Emperor…" she said, her voice quiet. Her mind was spinning. Did it matter? Ren was the co-star killer, surely that meant he would sometimes draw out that response in co-stars. Her face twisted, jealousy rising within her at the thought that others may have shared in the heart-pumping experience of looking into the Emperor of the Night's gaze.

But… Koga was a man. Kyoko paused, suddenly unsure if she'd recognized his reaction right. Reddened cheeks, wide, uncertain eyes, a look like a sheep about to be consumed by a wolf. Except the way Koga had looked after Ren as he left made it seem he wanted to chase after the wolf. Kyoko shook her head, more confused than ever. He couldn't have seen the Emperor if he wanted to follow after him! People ran from the Emperor! He had been doing a violent scene without a stunt-double; maybe Koga was telling the truth. She nodded, tapping her fingers against her fist. Of course her senior was telling the truth. She was the one who didn't understand what she saw.

If she could just see it all again, she could learn. Understanding and portraying complex emotions was critical for her career. She looked around for the director. She needed those tapes.

Kyoko sat in her room at the Darumaya later that night, her blanket wrapped around her legs and the remote poised in her hand, pointed at the TV. Director Morizumi hadn't even questioned her about her reasons; he'd handed over copies of the day's scenes eagerly. "Anything for Momiji," he'd said, beaming. He winked at her then leaned in to whisper with a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. "I would never stand in the way of a young lady wanting to collect mementos of her lover." Kyoko had blushed to her roots, mumbling an excuse. Her actual reason wasn't any more appropriate - if anything, it was far less appropriate to abscond with tapes to try and deduce whether and how her boyfriend was successfully seducing another man!

Accidentally seducing, she clarified in her mind as she found the right scene and pushed play. Acting out seducing. No, acting out strangulation. She rolled her eyes at herself. Acting, just watching acting.

She watched the on-screen action avidly. The cuts were rough; nothing had been edited yet. This camera's view was mostly wide, full-screen background shots. She paused and switched tracks, looking for one focusing in close on Ren's face.

Her thumb hovered over the play button. Was she betraying Ren's trust in any way by doing this? It felt a little like stalking. She could just ask him how he'd done it. She shook her head. No, that would be cheating! She would not use her relationship with Ren to benefit privately in her work as an actress, and that included trying to gather industry secrets! She may be his girlfriend, but she was also his kohai. He'd brought out an unscripted response in his costar somehow and she wanted to know how - purely so she could replicate or avoid it. This was her job. Her character development and growth.

She pushed play and the sequence began to roll across the screen. Ren and Koga wrestled, their faces twisted in rage and fear. She could feel her own heart start to pound as she watched their desperate battle. Ren's eyes held both sadness and fury at once; his hands shook with emotion as he grappled with Shizuma. She knew the full script and knew the weight this attack carried for Rusu, but even if she hadn't she would still understand with one look at his posture that trying to kill Shizuma was akin to killing himself.

The camera stayed in close on his face, catching even the drops of sweat Ren allowed to escape as he struggled. But not once, even when he leaned forward to breathe in Shizuma's scent as he strangled him, giving a twisted wordless goodbye-not once did his features switch to the Emperor. That maddeningly captivating stare, eyes hooded, glinting darkly with promises of passionately devouring you body and soul was missing.

Kyoko hummed to herself in question. She'd been mistaken. Koga hadn't seen the Emperor. He'd seen a messily desperate Rusu, but no Emperor.

She switched scenes again to find the camera locked on Koga. She wanted to see when he reacted. Maybe that would help her understand which of Ren's actions or expressions drew out his-Kyoko batted the thought away, refusing to name the emotion succinctly. His reddened face and loss of self-control.

She pushed play. Ren was advancing on him at speed, his face unseen from this angle but his shoulders tense as the long sword swept around and over his head to crash down on Koga. Koga gritted his teeth, displaying only the smallest hint of fear with how he held his eyes tense, crinkling the skin around their edges. Kyoko loved deciphering which minute expression shift indicated which emotion. She practiced tensing and relaxing the corners of her eyes as she watched. Ren slammed into Koga, dropping him to the ground and pinning him beneath his weight. Koga's face was partially obscured by the breadth of Ren's shoulders, but Kyoko could see his eyes shutting for a brief second as his teeth bared in reaction to the jarring impact. Koga immediately started beating up at Ren, twisting beneath him to free himself. His expression contorted with shock as Ren's hands wrapped around his neck.

Kyoko craned her neck, trying to see more clearly around Ren's shoulders on the screen. It hadn't hit yet. Koga's eyes were growing larger, his movements more frantic. Any second now it had to be the moment. "There!" she yelled to the empty room, whacking the pause button. Koga's face had flushed, his eyes intense with an emotion very different from fear. Need.

What did Ren do? What triggered it? Kyoko rapped her finger on the side of the remote, studying the still frame. She rewound and replayed once. Twice. The third time she gasped. "Breath!"

She could tell by the way his back expanded beyond his normal measurements for chest circumference and then contracted slightly below at that precise moment. His breath on Koga's face had caused that look! She pushed play with victorious oomph and watched the rest of the scene, pausing again at the millisecond of outtake after Morizumi-san had yelled cut. It was still apparent on Koga's face: that exhale had made a lasting impression.

But… why? Kyoko frowned. New breath mints? But why would Ren have a breath mint in during an intense fight scene with no stunt doubles? Kyoko sat back on the couch, carefully turning off the TV set and setting the remote on the table. She'd need to experiment some.

It was only 8:30 pm. Ren may not even be done with work yet! She called him and left a voicemail. His reply was almost instantaneous— a text message stating, "I'll pick you up at 9:30."

Kyoko waited outside the Darumaya, eager to learn. She didn't plan on telling Ren her methods. It would be better to see if she could pull reactions out of him without his foreknowledge to prepare. His Porsche rolled up precisely on time and she smiled, bounding over to his car.

"Never-Late Tsuruga!" she called out playfully. He leaned over the passenger seat to unlock the door and push it open, grinning widely.

"Where to, my lady?" he asked, sitting back to watch her as she climbed in and buckled up.

"Grocery store," she replied, "and then your place!"

Ren sat back in surprise, looking at her curiously. She smiled at him, rifling through her bag to cover over her excitement. Practicing acting with The Tsuruga Ren was always thrilling!

"Mine…?" he asked.

She nodded, finding her lipgloss and applying a dab. It was peppermint; a good approximation of the scent his breath may have had during the filming. She could hear Ren swallow hard and looked over at him curiously. He was watching her hand with the lipgloss avidly, his expression bearing a strong resemblance to Koga's. Kyoko knitted her brows. This wasn't right. Her actions had in no way mirrored Ren's on screen and yet she'd already drawn out a similar response.

Ren turned and gripped the steering wheel with his hands, flexing them around the leather cover. "So, what did you want to do? Watch a movie?"

Kyoko smirked at him. "Experiment."

He gulped, his hands tensing around the wheel. She was sitting with her legs crossed, wearing his favorite short, fluffy skirt. "Oh… yeah? With, um, recipes?"

Kyoko giggled. "No, Ren," she said, pulling down the mirror to dab at her lipgloss. Maybe it was the peppermint scent? Could he smell it from there? "Not with recipes." She left it at that for now and Ren pulled away from the Darumaya.

The car was filled with anticipation as the two actors pulled up at his place, the trunk full of groceries Kyoko had bought at random. She wasn't sure what she wanted to cook. The food was more of an excuse to find a reason to practice. Last time she'd been trying to reach up in his ridiculously high cabinets she had fallen and they'd ended up tangled on the floor. If she could replicate a similar situation, but use her martial arts training to end up on top, it would be the perfect moment for observing his reaction compared to Koga's. She wanted to nail this new skill on her own.

Ren walked behind her quietly, holding twenty-odd bags laced over his long arms. She had several herself, humming as she almost skipped ahead of him down the hall to his apartment. She waited for him at the door. He gestured with his elbow towards his front pocket, unable to extricate himself.

Kyoko sat down several of her bags and twined her arm through the chaos of plastic handles to his side, slipping her hand into his pocket. She could feel the warmth of his body, his muscled leg firm against her hand as she searched for the key. She blushed, her fingers finding something small and hard and pulling it out as quickly as possible. It was a coin. Kyoko bit her lip and glanced up at Ren. He was carefully avoiding her eyes, looking up over her head, but his cheeks were splotchy red over pale. If his eyes shifted expression just slightly, he would have caught the Koga-look!

Kyoko kept her eyes trained on his face as she slid her hand back into his pocket, letting her fingers press gently against the feeling of his skin through the thin fabric. She slid her hand lower, still arguably looking for the key but with her attention focused on his expression. There! Her fingertips had just traced over the backwards curve of his leg when his eyes went soft at the centers but tense at the corners - need. "Ah-hah!" she said out loud. Ren looked down at her in shock, meeting her eyes unexpectedly. Kyoko jumped backwards at the sudden eye contact, thankfully managing to snag the key with her fingers.

"I, ah, got the key!" She brandished it between them, turning quickly to cover her embarrassment at being almost caught.

Ren stayed in the hallway for several moments after she pushed through the door and into the kitchen. He seemed to be doing breathing exercises. She decided to let him be; she was here for acting practice, so allowing him his space to improvise and insert his own routines was natural. She unpacked her groceries. He was still in the hall.

"Ren?" she called, walking over to find him. He stood in the exact same place, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and regular but his fists clenched around the lowest bags. "Here, I'll help-"

"No!" he interjected, his eyes flying open. "Thank you, Kyoko, but I was just taking a moment to," he paused, searching for the word, "readjust." He held out the bags in wordless explanation. She nodded, smiling brightly, and led the way back to the kitchen. He dumped out all the ingredients on the counter in a giant pile.

Kyoko tried to remember which pots he had concealed in the uppermost cabinet. If her memory served, it was most of them. She giggled, rubbing her palms together. "I'll make us some dessert," she declared. "Maybe a souffle?" Those would be light enough for even Ren's appetite. He cocked his head at her, smiling gently.

"Time for the experiments?" he said, his voice filled with humor.

Kyoko just smiled at him, choosing not to reply. She busied herself with organizing the space and preparing her ingredients. Soon the kitchen was clear of the chaos, all the unwanted ingredients filed away in cabinets or the refrigerator - future Ren meals. She glanced sideways at him. She forced him to buy all of these in a tizzy tonight, but would he cook them? She'd have to make sure to come over regularly after her MV shoot this weekend and cook for him or the food may spoil with only the black coffee used up.

Her hands busily separated eggs and sifted flour as she plotted how to land on top of Ren. He was watching her earnestly. He'd never allow her to climb up on the counter at this rate- he'd intervene before her arm fully stretched towards the high cabinet.

"Ren?"

"Mmmm?" He had his head cradled in his hands, contentedly watching her cook.

"Could you get me some towels?"

He cocked his head in question at her.

"For the souffle. I'd like to tent them. Um, using fluffy towels instead of tea towels. It's part of the experiment," she finished. Well, it was! Getting him out of the room momentarily was, at least.

Ren nodded with absolute confidence in her cooking abilities and left to grab some towels from the master bath. Kyoko scurried over to the counter, leaping on top and reaching up to open the door. Perfect- opening it wide threw her off balance just enough to be believable. The higher height from standing on his counter instead of a chair would make it easier to land on top of him as well. She rubbed her hands together eagerly and waited for his return, planning how to make the fall look accidental.

"What are you doing?" His voice came from just behind her, unexpectedly quick. She jumped in surprise, her foot slipping off the counter. Her quick reflexes saved her plan - she twisted mid-air, reaching out blind to latch on to his shoulders. Ren's arms wrapped around her tight, hugging her to him as the pair slammed back into the island. He grunted- and didn't fall! Kyoko pushed against him slightly, her lips pursed in consternation.

"What are you doing?!" He repeated, his arms locked around her still but his eyes open wide in dismay. Kyoko scowled, then caught herself and tapped his shoulder to be let down, a sheepish smile creeping over her face.

"Sorry, I, ah, didn't want to bother you," she said. "You were already getting me towels. Your balance is extraordinary, Ren," she finished, trying not to pout. It had happened completely different the first time! Why didn't he fall? She sighed and finished the souffles, struggling to find an actual purpose for the bulky towels. They turned out light and fluffy despite her "experiments" and the pair settled in on the couch to munch. Ren kept eyeing her suspiciously, a small grin on his face as they ate.

"What?" she asked in a huff.

"Nothing," he said. "You're just very interesting tonight." Kyoko pursed her lips and sat down her souffle cup. She crossed her arms and looked at him.

"Well, you aren't exactly helping me in my experiments."

Ren threw his arms up in surrender, his souffle wobbling in its cup. "I got the towels."

Kyoko blew her bangs out of her face, arguing with herself in her mind. Should she tell him? She decided to just go for it. "Put down your cup," she ordered, pointing at the table. Ren's face showed confusion and humor as he obeyed.

She bit her lip and paused for a moment, then launched herself at him, throwing him off-balance. They fell backwards on the couch with a thud. Ren's eyes went wide with shock - but no noticeable indication of pain. Her brain constantly tracked his responses in comparison to Koga. Kyoko crawled on top of him while he was still stunned, wrapping her legs around his waist and hooking one ankle under the couch to try and keep him still.

"Kyo-" Ren started, reaching his hands up to clasp her shoulders. She tapped her finger to her lips, shushing him. She leaned forward but was too short to reach his face for the master-stroke. Concentrating diligently on watching his facial expressions, she scootched up higher, her skirt riding up slightly. Ren's eyelids fluttered, his mouth dropping open slightly. His hands hovered above her shoulders. She started to lean towards him, finally high enough.

"There!" She pointed in victory. He'd made the face! But wait, she hadn't breathed on him- her thoughts were interrupted as Ren gripped her shoulders with his hands and yanked her towards him, drawing her lips to his in a passionate kiss. She tried to push back; she wanted to see if his expression had held. But he held her too tightly, his tongue tracing over her lips as he moaned. She felt herself losing to his will and softened into him. His grip relaxed, his hands running soft caresses up and down her back as she lay against him. The feeling of his lips against hers was intensified a thousand times by the heat of his body pressing up into her own. Her leg fell from its grip on the couch and she teetered, but his hands shifted in time and caught her hips. He left them there, his broad palms almost imperceptibly starting to push her hips down into his, a gentle pressure she found inexplicably distracting.

"Ren," she gasped into his mouth, "your hands."

He hummed into their kiss, not moving his hands.

"Ren!" she said, trying to sit back.

He released her from the kiss, but left his hands where they lay. She swatted at him and he ducked, smiling playfully. "An experiment?" he suggested.

"Ah! You!" She shook her finger at him, pushing away to sit fully upright on top of him. "Those were for my research, not yours!"

He shrugged, finally moving his hands. "I don't mind doing more research together if you want to learn," he said, his eyes turning dark and smoky. The Emperor was rising. Kyoko leaped off him, bumping against the coffee table and sitting down on it between their souffle cups in a heap. He sat up and reached for her hand, drawing her back over to sit on his lap. "Don't go," he said in a dangerously soft voice. "We aren't done with our research yet."


	68. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chiori is two blinks away from breaking out the seme/uke diagrams. —Aikori

Kyoko felt her lips go dry and almost licked them but stopped, remembering that was one of the Emperor's triggers. "Ren," she said, her hands on his shoulders pressing him down gently. He was so much taller than her, though, that holding him back completely was problematic.

"Hmmm?" he murmured, his face nuzzling her neck. She could feel his lips hot against her skin and gasped lightly, trying to focus.

"I wasn't, ah, Ren! Stop!" At her words he sat back, keeping his hands firm around her waist but waiting for her to speak. Impatiently, it seemed, as his eyes kept moving from her face to her neck, watching the area he had just been kissing. "I need your help," she confessed. "I was trying to figure out one of your acting techniques on my own, but I'm confused."

Ren tore his eyes from her skin to focus on her eyes. "The experiments were about acting?" He chuckled once, to himself, and let his hands fall from her sides. "I should have guessed." His words were borderline bitter, but his tone was gentle and his eyes full of kindness. "The only person on earth more consumed with perfection in acting than me… is you." He smoothed her hair back from her face. "What is it?"

Kyoko resituated herself on the couch next to him, a purposeful few inches away from leg contact. The Emperor still simmered beneath the surface, she was sure, and he would definitely interrupt her learning if she gave him an opening. Ren waited, watching her.

"You brought out a reaction in Koga-san that I wasn't expecting," she started bluntly. "It wasn't in the script, either, and I wanted to know how and why you did it."

Ren's eyebrows furrowed as he considered her words. "Unexpected? You mean during today's scene?"

Kyoko nodded. "I brought the tapes if you want to see. But I figured out, at least I thought I did, that it happened when you breathed on him." She blushed. Those words sounded borderline scandalous and definitely odd saying them out loud. The next sentence was going to be even worse, but she dove in anyways. "I-wanted-to-see-if-I-was-right-so-I-tried-to-do-it-to-you-without-asking-sorry-" Kyoko breathed in, avoiding his eyes.

"You what?" Ren laughed. "You wanted to- to breathe on me?" He started to chuckle, leaning toward her to catch eye contact. "Just ask next time. It doesn't matter how weird it is; I'm used to doing odd things to practice my acting."

Kyoko huffed. "Not just breath. You breathed on him earlier in the scene too. It was the _way_ you did it I was trying to mimic. And it made him all flushed and like he'd seen the Emperor."

"Who?"

Kyoko sat bolt upright. "The… Emperor of the Night," she said, licking her lips. Had she never told him about the Emperor before?

Ren reached out and gently grasped her chin, turning her to look at him. She blushed and leaned in, putting her hand on his chest. She purposefully licked her lips again, watching him closely. His expression shifted, his eyes darkening as he watched her tongue. A predatory smile crept across his face and she yelped, sitting back again. "Him! That! There!" Ren blinked, snapping out of it. "That face- The Emperor of the Night! I haven't figured out all of his triggers, but licking your lips is definitely one of them and he is terrifying! I get this churning down in my gut that I'm going be eaten alive! With whipped cream and a cherry on top or something!"

Ren sat there, stunned. "Whipped cream and a cherry…" he muttered, his eyes slowly drawn down her torso. He started to shift again and Kyoko squeaked.

"How on earth is that a trigger?!" she yelled, batting at him. "Anyways!" She tried to refocus the conversation. "Koga-san didn't do any of that. No lip-licking, no whipped cream, no cherries. But somehow you still made him all red-faced and flustered like, well, like he wanted you to eat him. Not that I do! I mean, not right now! I mean, no!" Kyoko huffed in exasperation, flinging her arms about at the empty air in front of her.

Ren shook with silent laughter at her outburst. He gently tugged on her sleeve, patting the seat next to him. "Show me the tape," he said smoothly, his eyes liquid pools beckoning her to obey, to come closer, to trust him.

Kyoko thought carefully, leaning toward him, but stood up. The Pure Maiden team had won for this evening. "Thank you, Ren, but… it's just a little dangerous here right now. I think I need to go home for tonight. I'm sorry for not asking you before. I will definitely show you. Just- right now I'm not sure I can handle the Emperor!" She leaned down and pecked him on the forehead and fled with a squeak before his arms could wrap around her again.

The next morning, bright and early before her car left for the shoot in the north, Kyoko sat around the small table in the LoveME room with Chiori and Kanae. It was unusual for all three girls to be off at the same time, and Kyoko was reveling in the moment.

"There is nothing more precious in all of life than girl friends!" she sang, her body swaying with the imaginary music filling her head. Chiori and Kanae looked at each other over their breakfast trays and rolled their eyes, then broke into smiles. Both girls loved Kyoko's sappyness, though neither would fully openly admit it. Kanae finished her fresh fruit and yogurt fairly quickly and stood to prepare for work.

"Moko, wait!" Kyoko lunged for her sleeve. "Don't leave me! I need Girl Talk." The emphasis she placed on each word made it clear both Girl and Talk were proper nouns, capitalized for full importance. Kanae huffed but sat.

"What is it?" Chiori asked, lured in.

"Why would a man get all red in the face when another man blew on him?"

Kanae choked on air. Chiori spat out her orange juice. Both turned to stare fully at Kyoko, in unison crying out, "WHAT?"

"Moko, Chiori, I'm being serious! Why?"

Chiori and Kanae exchanged glances, shrugging with equal confusion. Kanae took the lead. "Mo, I don't know- anger?"

"No, Moko, he definitely wasn't angry. Though he should have been," Kyoko said, brightening. "That would make a lot more sense! He was being strangled after all."

"Well, there you have it. Strangulation will turn you red in the face," Chiori said matter-of-factly.

Kyoko frowned at them. "Not that kind of red. More like a blush, less like asphyxiation. And with a look in his eyes of need."

Kanae tapped her finger against her mouth as she thought. "What was the other man doing?"

"Straddling him."

Chiori coughed again, almost choking on her orange juice. Drinking around Kyoko was turning into a dangerous affair.

"St-str- what?! What were you watching?" she exclaimed.

"Lotus," Kyoko said simply, still not noticing her friends' distress. Kanae sat down next to her, her face concerned.

"The film you're in is explicit now?" Kanae asked softly. "We can find a way to get you out of the contract if you need to be released."

Kyoko's head shot up in alarm. "Released?! Explicit? What!" She shook her head wildly, patting the air for her friends to calm down. "Where did you get that idea!"

Chiori rolled her eyes. "You just described to us a scene where one man is straddling the other, strangling him erotically."

"Err-" Kyoko's mouth couldn't form the word.

"Yes, erotically," Chiori continued. "Why else would the man on the ground feel _need_ for the one trying to kill him?"

"But- but- they're both-"

"Men?" Kanae offered, her eyebrow cocked.

"Yes!" Kyoko countered, pointing at Kanae as if her word was proof alone for Chiori's theory to fall apart.

Chiori smirked. "Even better, from some points of view."

Kanae rolled her eyes and patted Kyoko's hand, drawing her attention back. "Kyoko," she said softly. "Sometimes a man is attracted to another man. It happens. It's okay. But I don't understand why this happened in _Lotus_ ; I didn't think any of the characters were gay."

Kyoko mouthed the word _gay_ silently. "Oh…" she said. "The character… isn't. I don't think." She looked up at Kanae, then at Chiori, her mouth framed in a silent "Oh." "The actor, though," she trailed off.

Chiori's eyebrow cocked at the juicy gossip. "Just who were the two men playing this role?"

Kyoko didn't hesitate to share it all with her best friends. "Tsuruga and Koga," she said simply.

Kanae gasped. "Who was on top?!" she demanded.

"Ren," Kyoko said. "Why does that matter?"

Chiori smirked. "Fanfiction." Kanae swatted at her.

"Mo, no. It doesn't, really. We know Tsuruga-san's preferences. Koga-san- well, apparently we know them now too." She paused, looking closely at Kyoko. "Mo, wait. Kyoko, didn't you say Tsuruga-san took Koga-san to an onsen earlier in the week?"

Kyoko nodded innocently. "I told him to take him out to make friends. Koga always seemed to act strangely around Ren." Kanae groaned, her usual self-control lapsing as she plopped her head in her hands.

"Kyoko," she said, her voice muffled. "Do you know what an onsen is like?"

Kyoko smiled innocently. "Yes, of course! We had one at the ryokan. And I got to go to one in Kariuzawa."

Leaning forward, Kanae spoke softly to Kyoko. "But have you ever been with a romantic interest?"

Kyoko blushed and shook her head. "At the ryokan I only went to bathe with Fuwa-san, or to clean it, and in Kariuzawa it was with Shoko-san." Kanae stood up and looked meaningfully at Chiori.

Chiori grinned wickedly. "Naked. Totally naked. Private room. Dim lights. Washing each other's backs. Reclining in steamy water that only somewhat hides the muscles. Drips slowly moving down the firm lines of-"

Kanae reached over and swatted Chiori on the shoulder. "Tsk! Hush! Can't you see you've fried Kyoko's brain?" Sure enough, Kyoko sat with a catatonic look on her face, staring unseeing at Chiori.

"Onsen…" she said quietly. "Oh my God!" Suddenly Kyoko snapped, blood rushing to her face then back out as she stood.

"It's totally different than going with a middle-aged woman," Chiori continued, a smirk on her face. "Absolute heaven if you're into the person you're with," she finished. "Or hell, I suppose, if they aren't in to you."

"But Koga and-" Kyoko stopped, looking from one friend to another for advice. Kanae scowled, unwilling to participate. Chiori grinned fiendishly.

"Ask Ren how it went," she suggested.

"Mo, you just want fodder for your writing," Kanae said, whacking Chiori again. Chiori shrugged. "Kyoko," Kanae continued, "You know you have nothing to worry about with Ren. He's obsessed with you. But Koga… I'm not sure that onsen trip meant nothing to him if he really did react that way to Ren on set."

Kyoko dug in her purse and got her phone, swiping to find the screenshot she'd taken of the exact moment in _Lotus_. She held it out toward Kanae and Chiori. The two girls leaned in and examined it. Kanae sat back without a word but Chiori leaned closer, a wide grin on her face.

"Definitely gay," she said, nodding with satisfaction. "Excellent."

Kyoko stared down at her phone, looking at Koga's expression. That look did mean need, after all. So when she had been at Ren's house, she'd also been able to- her face went red-hot and she clicked the phone locked, shoving it away in her purse.

"You know," Chiori said, watching Kyoko's reaction carefully. "You should see if Ren would take you to that onsen. A do-over of sorts, with the proper person." Kyoko gulped, staring wide-eyed at her friend. She turned to Kanae for help. Kanae merely shrugged.

"Yukihito and I went last week," she said simply. Chiori waggled her eyebrows at Kanae, making Kanae flush lightly.

"Maybe," Kyoko said softly, her eyes downcast. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of knowing Ren had such an experience with someone who wasn't her. Even if it was a man. "Maybe after the MV?" Chiori clapped.

"Text him now!" she urged. Kyoko shook her head, but Chiori pulled Kyoko's phone out and shoved it at her.

Nervously, Kyoko took the phone. She looked at Kanae, who just smiled at her, leaving the choice to her. Her hands shaking, she sent Ren a simple invitation.

-Would you join me at an onsen to celebrate the MV shoot once it's done?-

Kyoko froze once she hit send. "WhatdidIdo-" she mumbled, her face beet red.

Chiori laughed, hugging her. "Something wonderful! Kanae, let's take her to get a manicure and pedicure before they go!" Kanae tried to pout but couldn't manage to hide her amusement.

"Mo, don't worry, Kyoko," she said, patting her friend's head. "You can always go in the women's room instead of a private one if you don't want to go through with it." Kyoko beamed up at her, a look of total gratitude on her face.

"Moko," she sighed happily. "You always know just what to say."

Chiori snickered and whispered in Kyoko's ear, "Drips slowly melting down the hard lines of Tsuruga's firm muscles as he leans over toward you, his eyes dark with need-" Kyoko squeaked and upended her purse over her head, everything spilling out on the floor in chaos. Chiori laughed uproariously, hugging her friend before bending to collect the items and put them on the table. Kanae clucked at them both, her arms crossed but her face beaming.


	69. Departure

Ren stared at his phone in awe. He screenshot the text. "Onsen?" he whispered out loud to himself. His mind refused to wrap around the possibility that his shy Kyoko actually understood the implication of her invitation. She ran from kisses!

Ren rubbed his eyes, staring at the text. The car behind him honked impatiently, snapping him out of his daze. He shoved his phone in his pocket and accelerated quickly.

Well, she hadn't run from that kiss last night. Maybe Rusu was getting to her. He smirked, running his fingers around his steering wheel. Momiji was certainly getting to him— he loved seeing Kyoko full of power and confidence. She was intoxicating in every form, but Momiji's dynamic with Rusu made his skin tingle. He had felt possessed after Morizumi-san called "cut" last night, desperate to touch her.

But an onsen… Ren gripped the steering wheel tightly as he pulled into the parking space behind Jelly's private studio. He shook his head. She couldn't understand what she was inviting him to. He'd made that mistake once with emojis! She probably just wanted to do a spa day and didn't understand the difference. He brought up Google-sensei and searched for a local massage parlor. A couple's massage should be a good in-between.

His fingers hesitated over his text to reframe the invite to a massage. She had understood that he wasn't wearing any clothes in the photo with Koga. Maybe it was possible she did know. He rubbed his fingers together. He should take the chance. He started to delete his message when his phone rang beneath his fingers. Kyoko was calling!

"Hello, Kyoko," he said, his voice warm.

"Ren! I— ah, sorry! I didn't mean! It's not— Chiori said it was okay!" She paused. He held still, waiting. "...And Kanae and Yuki have gone, and you went with Koga-san," Kyoko paused again. "And I wanted to— I mean, someone else has with you, and they weren't just friends— Well, they are to you, but to them it wasn't, I don't think, and it's not for me, but I don't know if it's okay with you, or even with me, butitcouldbefun—"

Ren tried to smother his laughter with his hand. "Kyoko," he said, "I'd love to take you. But do you want to go or not?"

The other end of the line was silent. He leaned back against the seat, waiting.

"So forward…" came her mumbled response. He could almost feel the heat of her blush through the phone.

Ren cradled the phone in his hand, wishing he was with her. "It's just you and me," he said softly, "and what we are ready for that matters." He hoped she could hear his love and contentment in her through his tone. "I can wait, Kyoko."

Small squeaks came across the speaker. He imagined her bouncing up and down in frantic indecision. "Let's have dinner together after your shoot this weekend," he offered, "and we can talk about it then." Everything could change after this weekend. He needed to give her him before they took another step forward, no matter how badly he wanted to dive in with her.

"Mmmm," she said in affirmation. "Thank you, Ren." Her voice was soft as she said his name. "I'm sorry I left so quickly last night."

"Did you find out the answer to your research?" He tried to keep his voice from betraying his rising lust as he remembered the events of last night. An onsen trip would be whipped cream and cherries indeed.

"Yes! Chiori and Kanae helped me!" Her voice was full of pride. "And so did you," she said. "Our research confirmed my theory."

Ren waited for her to follow-up with an explanation but none came. She moved on to telling him about her schedule and role for the MV. "But don't worry," she finished, "I've made sure there are clear lines he can't cross."

"What do you mean?" Ren asked.

"Well…" she paused. "I forgot to tell you, but it's a little more risqué than I thought it would be. I wasn't worried, but since Actor's Rule of the Heart apparently isn't a thing," she stopped, her voice pouty.

"Kyoko," Ren warned, "even if it was, it wouldn't apply to Fuwa anymore. What is the role?" He felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

"Don't worry, it's just a spin on Momiji. It'll be fine. I can be a professional!"

Ren could hear his teeth grinding against each other. "If it was anyone other than him, yes— but Kyoko, Fuwa is—"

"Someone I pity." She cut him off. "That's all."

Ren breathed deep. This was not a phone conversation. Thank God he had already made plans to go up there this weekend. He would go insane if he hadn't.

"I am definitely taking you to that onsen when you get home," he growled.

Kyoko squeaked in surprise before hurriedly agreeing and hanging up. He sat frozen in the car, still holding the phone to his ear, breathing deeply. This was bound to happen. Romantic roles for her were going to happen. He'd gotten lucky being cast as her love interest with Rusu— extremely lucky. Once Lotus aired he knew she would be in demand for more romantic pieces; probably especially period dramas. But this— was with him. Ren threw himself out of the car and stalked through Jelly's back door entrance to her salon. He needed to get up there. Yesterday.

Kyoko paced outside LME in a tizzy. She had needed to tell him. She couldn't believe she hadn't told him already. There had been so much going on— Lotus, and Koga, and the Emperor, and the newness of dating— she froze mid-stride. Dating! Kyoko spun in place, her eyes full of flowers as she shoved aside the agony with brute force to revel for a moment in the fact that she was dating Tsuruga Ren! Tsuruga Ren! And he was very, very mad! "Aiyeeeeeee!" Kyoko yelled at herself, covering her eyes. Her punishment was an onsen date! She staggered, her legs wobbly beneath her. That mental image of Dark Lord Tsuruga sitting in a hot spa, beckoning her to come to her doom! She was going to diiiieeeeee!

"As if I needed further proof something was wrong with your brain," a scoffing voice interrupted her dark fantasy. Her head snapped up. Her ride was here.

"Stupid Sho," she said, her nose wrinkling in distaste. He still sported that ridiculous hairstyle, today with dark fitted jeans and a branded sweatshirt. "Something is wrong with your brain!"

"Nice comeback. Glad to see you're getting smarter by the day," he said, his voice chilly as he turned away from her to walk back to the luxury van taking them up to Jogodahama. She rolled her eyes, clenching and unclenching her fists. Why, oh why did Yashiro have to be busy today! She started to stalk off after Sho, determined to ignore him the entire ride, when he stopped. She almost ran into his back. She heard him curse under his breath. He scratched his neck, then turned back towards her with a long, drawn-out sigh.

"Sorry," he said.

Kyoko stared at him.

He glared at her petulantly.

"What did you say?" she asked, the words sounding strange coming out of her mouth.

"Hang on," Sho said, turning back to the van. She stood in shock, her brain still trying to comprehend the two syllables that had fallen from his tongue. He returned quickly, holding a small bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates. The bouquet was one-tenth the size of the monstrosity he'd forced upon her months ago, and had wrapped around the bare stems a simple charm bracelet covered in silver pixies.

"Chocolate and flowers. And fairies," he said, mumbling. "Sorry."

He shoved them at her, stalking back to the car as soon as he felt her grip close loosely around his offering. Kyoko stood there, the items filling her arms, her mouth gaping open.

"Stop imitating a koi and get in the van," Sho called angrily. Shoko leaned out the passenger window and waved happily at Kyoko, beckoning her over. Kyoko looked down at her arms, then up at the van, then down, up, down, up, down-

"Don't make me add a chiropractor visit to our trip," Shoko called out playfully.

Kyoko started forward with a stumble, hesitantly making her way to the van. She stopped before climbing inside. "Did aliens eat your brains, Shotaro?"

Sho winced, but didn't even correct her on using his proper name. Kyoko couldn't keep her mouth from gaping. She was going to eat a lot of flies on this trip. "Shoko?" she asked, turning to his manager as she climbed inside, stuffing the armful of peace offerings into the aisle between them.

"Hey! I spent a lot of money on those!" Sho yelled, scooping up the roses. Kyoko stuck her tongue out at him.

"Not as much as your shoes, I bet. How about you let me step on those again? That's an apology I'd love to accept." She could hear his teeth grinding and smiled gleefully. He must be sick. Or suffering from burn-out or mental trauma or multiple personality disorder.

"Now, you two," Shoko's voice rang out happily from up front. "We've got a three hour ride to the location. Kyoko-chan, it's a pleasure to see you."

Kyoko nodded politely at Shoko. She still wasn't sure how she felt about Sho's manager. The memories of that first encounter were burned into her brain, and just looking at her made Kyoko somewhat queasy still. How someone could willingly climb onto Shotaro's lap and- "Ugh," Kyoko moaned, interrupting herself.

"Are you car sick already, Kyoko-chan?" Shoko asked with concern.

"Not car sick, no," Kyoko answered honestly. "Though I do feel ill." She rolled her eyes at Sho. "Probably from your lame attempt at an apology."

Sho growled at her, but just crossed his arms and stared out the window. He held the roses tightly upright in his fist, the pixy charms tinkling as the van swayed. Kyoko thought about sneaking her phone out to take a picture, but who on earth could she send it to? Ren would be furious; Kanae would be suspicious- Chiori! Kyoko smirked and snapped a photo, her phone carefully turned to silent. She'd learned her lesson about that shutter click once before. She gleefully sent the photo off to her friend with a simple caption: Fanfiction Fodder.

Chiori's reply was swift. -Gay!-

Kyoko laughed out loud, hiding her phone from Sho when he turned to scowl at her. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so tedious after all.


	70. Owning It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am soft for crying Sho and I don't care who knows it. —Aikori

Sho's hand gripped tight around the roses, creasing their stems. It all went down just as he suspected it would. Kyoko had made it quite clear where he stood in her life. Screw it, nothing he could do would change her mind. And that suited him just fine - made it easier to completely smash her. He picked off a rose petal and slowly crushed it between his fingertips.

Sho felt a strange chill emanating from the seat next to him and glanced over. Kyoko was chuckling evilly at her phone, texting someone. This shoot was going to be a total disaster. There was no way they could pull these roles off; they required actual chemistry. All he and Kyoko had was… what? Bickering?

Sho twisted the roses in his hand. We were friends, once. Her words sprang unbidden to his mind. He whacked the roses against his palm. What was he even apologizing for? She was the one that should be apologizing to him. She was the one definitely shacking up with a nutcase even after promising him, her so-called childhood friend, that she would never even dream of such acts. He snapped one of the rose stems in his fist accidentally, the petals falling loose on his lap. He cursed under his breath and went to throw the bouquet on the floor but stopped.

Flowers and chocolate and apologies. Sho took a shaky breath. He wasn't here to make nice to Kyoko because the crazy woman deserved it. He was here to make nice because Koga asked for it. Damn it. Sho brushed the petals off his lap but held on to the other flowers. He said he'd help Koga get Tsuruga Ren. Sho winced at the image in his mind. What was so appealing about that man? First Kyoko, now Koga. It was like both of them willfully blinded themselves to Tsuruga's darkness and treated the maniac like he just needed a head scratch to calm down!

 _Tsuruga's_ _bloodthirst_ _is_ _palpable and yet still— still_ _they both_ _chose him over me_. His hands shook. Another petal fell.

He looked over at Kyoko. She was watching the scenery out the window, ignoring him. He could hear his teeth grinding in his skull. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was try again. The shit he did for his friend.

He shoved the slightly bedraggled flowers back at Kyoko. "Just take them." Kyoko glared at him over her shoulder.

"I did," she said. "I put them where I wanted them." She looked meaningfully down at the floor, then back up at Sho. Sho could feel his rage start to boil. He tried to make himself breathe deeply. Friend. Trying to help a friend.

"Fine," he said through his teeth, laying the flowers carefully back on the floor.

Kyoko's eyes bugged out. "What is wrong with you, Shoutaro?" He mocked her soundlessly, crossing his arms against his chest. "No- seriously. Are you sick?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "What? You said we used to be friends. Maybe I'm just trying to be a friend."

"It's weird."

Sho glared at her, forcing himself to remain silent.

"Being a selfish prick comes naturally to you," she continued, staring at him suspiciously. "It's who you are. This… this is freaky."

Sho bit back a retort. "I… Listen, I'm trying."

Kyoko let out a loud guffaw, clutching her chest and leaning back against her seat for support as the laughter shook her.

"Stop," he said, irritated. She just waved her hand at him, too consumed with laughter to breathe or reply. "Seriously," he said, scowling. "Stop."

Kyoko wiped tears from her eyes, her head lolled back against the headrest as she looked over at Sho, still giggling. "I can't," she gasped. "It's too rich. Fuwa Shoutaro is trying to be a decent human being!" Her laughter filled the van again, grating on his ears.

"SHUT UP KYOKO, GOD!" He grabbed up the flowers and threw them at her, the blooms exploding against her raised arms into a cloud of red petals. "As if you were worth it! Stupid sell-out - how dare you mock me when it's you that's messed it all up!" Kyoko stared at him in shock, her arms still raised against his outburst. He flung more words at her, unable to stop himself. "I warned you not to feel anything for a man like that! I warned you— and you agreed! You know he's a train wreck," he spat out. "Why—"

Kyoko's eyes were hard as she shot back at him. "Speak for yourself, Shoutaro."

He snarled at her. He was done with this ridiculous apology plan. "You owe me. Go back to Kyoto where you belong, housemaid."

Her eyes met his— but they weren't filled with the hateful demonic glee he was used to receiving. Instead, disbelief filled her eyes. "You really believe it, don't you?"

He scoffed at her, trying to keep the confusion at bay.

"You do," she said, her tone soft. Almost mournful. "You actually believe you should be able to dictate that kind of thing for me." She rested her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes. "Oh, Sho," she said quietly, "if only you would grow up."

Sho flinched.

She looked over at him, her eyes full of pity. He felt his stomach roil and forced himself to turn and look out the window.

Kyoko didn't say anything else the rest of the ride. He wished she would speak. Taunt him. Ridicule him. Give him a reason to lash out and shove these emotions somewhere safe, outside of himself. But this silence— Sho's fingertips tapped anxiously on his leg, nervous energy escaping him.

 _Grow up_.

 _Child_.

God, it echoed Koga's accusations perfectly. Sho couldn't stop fidgeting nervously. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't want to internalize it.

The van pulled up to the hotel overlooking the beach where they'd shoot the MV. Sho flung open the door before the van came to a stop, racing into the lobby. Realizing he had no way to check himself in and refusing to wait for Shoko, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked out to the balcony. Two hours til action. Still time to quit.

He gritted his teeth, shaking his head against his own cowardice. Even without Koga's request, this was still part of his career. A new song release; a premium music video. He couldn't walk out without damaging his reputation in the industry beyond repair. Sho cursed and plopped down in a heap in one of the chairs.

Several minutes later, a thunk on the table next to him roused him from his stewing. A small hand gestured at the large pink drink, condensation dripping slowly down the side of the curved glass. Sho scowled and turned away.

"It's your favorite flavor," Kyoko said cheerfully. He just sat there, refusing to acknowledge her presence further. He would deal with her when he had to: on set.

Kyoko sighed, sliding her chair closer to the balcony's edge. She sat silently, watching the waves. Several minutes passed; with each Sho grew increasingly antsy. He was just starting to consider caving and surrendering the space when she spoke.

"If you want to talk, I'm here. If you don't want to talk, I'm here. But if you want to bicker and rant and refuse to actually deal with any actual struggles— I'll take the daiquiri and leave." She didn't look at him while she spoke. Her voice was quiet and soothing. She sat back in her seat and waited, still looking straight forward out over the sea.

He blew the air he'd been holding in slowly out between his lips. What was she playing at? Talking, not talking, bickering…

Grow up.

Sho rested his forehead on his fist. "There's nothing to talk about," he mumbled.

"We could start with Tokyo," she offered. "You did, after all, want to apologize. I'm still not sure you know for what." She turned and looked him in the eye. "Yes— you asked me to come. But you didn't kidnap me. And you didn't hypnotize me to romanticize you beyond all bounds of reason and sense." Kyoko scoffed at herself, picking the tiny umbrella out of the drink and rolling it between her fingers. "You didn't force me to work two jobs to support you, or quit school, or limit my dreams to being your wife." She layered the last word with a sad humor in her tone, her eyes filled with disbelief.

Kyoko flicked the umbrella down onto the ground. "But neither did you stop me. You let me run myself ragged for you, while you never once even considered me a partner. Much less a potential love. You used me," she said, her voice calm and measured. She looked up, searching his eyes for something. "And then you threw me away."

Sho winced, then tried to turn it into a snarl.

"No," she said, shaking her finger at him. "Let yourself feel it. President Takarada taught me this. Embrace your true emotions, let them roll through you— learn them and master them. You want to be the best singer in Japan. Let yourself actually feel, Fuwa Sho."

Sho stared at her. She stared back, a sad smile transfiguring her face. "I forgive you," she said. "I'm over you." She didn't break eye contact.

He could feel her earnestness reaching out to him through her gaze. Sho's fists shook as he knotted them against her intrusiveness. But no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't look away.

"Kyoko—" he said, the short name forced out almost like a cough. He couldn't say more. She let her gaze fall to his hands. He watched the top of her head, unwilling to look down. Her soft fingers brushed over his fist, resting gently on top of his skin. She squeezed it lightly, then slowly pried it open finger by finger until his hand lay on his lap open and shaking.

A soft splash landed on his open palm, followed by another, and another. He looked at her in startlement, but her golden eyes were clear. The one crying was him. Sho closed his eyes, trying to force the tears to stay inside, to deny their existence, but the traitors crept out the sides. The harder he closed his eyes the swifter they fell, one by one coating his palm with salty regret.

"I'm sorry," he said in a gasp. "I'm sorry I wasn't actually a friend."

"Own it," she said quietly.


	71. Don't Apologize

Sho's eyes followed her as she walked across the set. The red kimono she wore flowed loosely around her legs, wider in the skirt and lower in front than traditional.. Her long, black Momiji ponytail lacked its typical stark leather band; instead, an ornate gold clasp fastened her hair high. A single press from his hand on the side release was scripted to bring her hair down in a shining tumble across bare shoulders. His hands shook slightly as he tried to force himself to walk across the set and greet her. But what was he supposed to say? Where would he even start?

_Own it._

Sho worried at the sleeve of his own kimono. _Tsk_ , he scolded himself. Creating drama where there was none. One conversation, that's all it was. Sure, she'd pulled him to pieces but it changed nothing about their relationship. She was still friggin' annoying, and he was still dominant. Friendship with her was a pipe dream.

And yet he stood there, watching her. It was she who held command over the set, chatting with the director about her cues, while he waited on the sideline. He couldn't help but recognize there was something different, something richer and deeper in her than he'd seen in her since they left Kyoto together. His bone and feather earring — a nod to his _Prisoner_ MV— clinked against his shoulder as his head sank in thought. Sho almost ran his fingers through his hair but stopped himself in time before he messed up the intricate braid the stylist had woven down his back. He snarled. He couldn't decide if he loved his costume or hated it. The phoenix tattoo covering his back was sick, especially the way the fire from its tail wound around his side and down into the front of his pants. But white? He rubbed his thumb on the edge of his sleeve again. Seriously, _white_ for Fuwa Sho? And this braid— the stylist had left his shaved sides as-is, choosing to weave into the pompadour a long, blond braid reaching all the way down his back. The only bright color in his entire outfit were the blood red feathers in the earring.

He'd written _Chocolate_ to be about lust, but here he was wearing mourning colors with an emblem of death and rebirth twisting around his body. The symbolism stirred emotions all too similar to his conversation with Kyoko. He fidgeted, torn between stalking over and getting it done and tearing a path back to the costume department to demand changes.

His eyes connected with hers. _Shit_. He turned to leave. He wasn't ready for this. Kyoko's voice calling his name rang out clear across the set. _Shit_. Sho slowly turned and nodded at her, walking reluctantly to her side. He bowed to the director silently.

He saw Shoko raise an eyebrow in shock from behind the director and bared his teeth at her, daring her to comment. She just crossed her arms and smiled at him, popping a dark chocolate in her mouth. Sho swallowed, looking down at Kyoko. She had been so against the script when she first received it, but was now animatedly preparing for the call. Reserving all her drama for him when she could get away with it, just like some annoying kid sister.

The director hollered out for places and Sho slunk off to the side of the stage, still deep in thought. The first few seconds of film were solo Kyoko. His voiceovers would be added later, along with some cuts to the takes of him singing to be filmed in studio. He watched her curiously. Last time he'd seen her on set he'd been too preoccupied with the skill of Shizuma to really pay much attention to her character.

Kyoko's eyes were closed, her hands loose by her side. "Action!" rang out across the set and she swirled into sudden movement, flowing into a seamless kata of martial arts forms. She hit each new position with a beat and a breath, her body forming into the move for a heartbeat before releasing to reform for the next. Sand skittered around her bare feet as she spun gracefully, the red kimono flaring out at the waist with each crouch and kick. The director nodded at him in wordless signal when she reached the seventh form. Sho stepped forward.

He walked forward towards her, closing the distance incrementally as she continued to strike. He reached his hand up, ready to catch her final punch when "CUT" rang out over the stage.

"Fuwa, I need more power," the director called. "You are in control. Remember— this is about your capture and domination of Momiji by pure passion. When you approach her we need to feel that potential flowing from you."

Sho nodded and turned to walk back quickly, trying to keep his eyes from betraying his startlement. He'd obeyed the cue still thoroughly stuck in his own head. He had no idea the director could tell a difference merely in the way he walked. He retraced his steps and waited, trying to fill his mind with the right motivation. Dominance. Passion. The director nodded and called action again, studying the scene shown live on camera.

He clenched his hands in fists by his side, anchoring his jaw and staring her down as he paced forward. Just before he reached her side, the director called "Cut!" once more. "Sho," he called out. "Not anger - passion!" Kyoko looked up at him curiously.

She beckoned to him, keeping her voice low so only he could hear her. "Forget about our talk for now. Be the old you, it's what he wants for this take." Sho frowned at her.

"Old me?"

"Jerk. Cocky. Thinks every female on earth is in love with you, especially me. Determined to make me recognize your superiority and confident I won't be able to resist caving." She winked at him. _Winked._ Sho gritted his teeth, blowing air out between them to try and prevent himself from cursing at her.

"That's what you think of me?"

"Nope- that's who you were. Might still be. Up to you whether it's still true or not," she said, a soft smile on her face. "But it's definitely useful for what Director-sama wants in this take."

Sho gestured at her rudely to hide his discomfort at how calmly she flung harsh words at him. He was used to her ridiculous banter, but ever since that moment in the van she'd had a totally different tone with him. Where once she had been full of wrath, now she was more dispassionate. Calm. Self-assured. It made the words sink into his brain like a lobotomy. A dangerous one that caused leaky eyeballs. Sho stalked back to the side and nodded at the director that he was ready.

Kyoko started to move once more, her rhythm never faltering. Her eyes were focused and full of determination even though she was repeating the same actions over and over again because of him. He swallowed and forced himself to repeat her inane words. _She's definitely in love with me. She will cave. She needs me._ He stepped forward, letting his full weight rest on his foot before moving forward another step, his eyes fixated on Kyoko. _She desperately needs me, even if she doesn't know it._ He moved forward again, his hand raising slowly to the level of hers. _I don't need her, but she needs me._ He opened his palm in perfect timing to catch her punch as she turned. Her eyes glowed with an inner fire as their hands connected. She moved to jerk backwards but he countered before she could, pulling her fist forward to jerk her into him.

She spun, her back pressed against him as he held her arm tightly. Her free arm shot up, the elbow seeking to connect with his chin. He ducked, his face resting close to her bare neck. _I don't need her, but I want to use her._ The next movement was to shift left away from her head butt, pulling the upper hem of her kimono down some as he drew back, but he found himself frozen. "I want to use her" repeated in his head like a sick litany. "I'm sorry," he whispered, unable to stop himself from reverting back to their conversation on the balcony. "I'm doing it again." Kyoko jerked in surprise, her face turning towards him.

"Cut!" the Director growled. "Fuwa-san, there are no words there. Why are you whispering?" He tapped his fingers against his clipboard rapidly. "Again. Marks."

"Director-sama," Kyoko called out, her tone mild. "Could we take a short break?" The Director scowled at her for the further delay, but nodded. She grabbed Sho's shirt sleeve and pulled him off to the edge of the surf, far enough away from the crew that the waves would hide most of their conversation.

"Shoutaro," she started, but he waved dismissively at her.

"This is on me, not you. I'll get my head straight," he said, scowling at himself.

"I picked the wrong time to talk with you about everything," she said. "And for that, I'm sorry. But believe me, I don't want to spend one more minute out here filming this with you-especially _that_ section-than I have to. So no, I'm not letting this be on you. We are figuring this out and you are not getting any more NGs."

Sho snarled at her, turning to walk away but she grabbed him by the shoulder, whipped him around to face her with a stumble, and slammed her foot into his shin. "SHO. TAR. O," she snapped. "You will NOT leave until you understand your role!"

He fell into a crouch, clutching his leg. "Damnit, Kyoko! Why always the shin?! There's even less padding there in this stupid outfit!" He wanted to sit down but feared the wrath of the costume department and stood to face her with a wince. "Maybe I just changed my mind! I don't want to do this to you anymore!"

" _To_ me?" Kyoko asked, her face skewed in question.

"To- with- whatever," Sho said, waving away his slip. "I'm sorry. It isn't a good dynamic for us and not one I should have forced on you."

"Sorry doesn't matter here," Kyoko said, her voice firm. "Contracts have been signed. Crews have been paid for. There is an entire workforce here on location - a location which _you_ demanded, need I remind you - and you are going to finish this job. Here. With me."

"But-"

"I know I am not your type of woman," Kyoko interrupted, her voice scathing. "And I can't imagine why you forced everyone into you and I doing this type of shoot unless it was to embarrass me by making that fact very, very clear." She leaned up towards him, her eyes fiery. "But let me make something very, very clear to you, Fuwa. I am a professional actress. I complete my jobs with excellence. This, today, with you-it's just another job. Don't get any ideas about this being something important or precious to me." She turned away from him to look out over the ocean. "And don't apologize again."

Sho stared at her. He took a step forward, unsure what he was going to say but wanting to clarify and to let her know that this wasn't about hurting her. The words stuck in his mouth. He couldn't tell her what it was actually about without telling her far, far too much about someone else's secrets. He clenched his hand in a fist by his side, his shoulders falling as he fought for answers.

"If you still can't do it because of how I look," Kyoko said, her voice venomous, "then try imagining me as someone else. Maybe someone with bigger boobs." The glare she shot him over her shoulder was full of scorn, but something shifted again when she saw his posture. She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Let's just get this done, Shoutaro. Imagine me as whoever I need to be to make you want me." She smirked, sticking her tongue out at him. "As absolutely disgusting as that sounds. If it helps, I tell myself you're someone else too."

Sho coughed in surprise at her revelation. "S-someone else?" he stuttered.

Kyoko just smiled at him and walked back to set. "30 seconds to pick a person. Mimori-san would love the honor."


	72. Open to Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to maintain one's confidence when your kinda-sorta-but-not-really friend/co-star ups and leaves you for a cereal grain in the middle of filming. —Aikori

He stared at her back as she walked back to set but he couldn't actually see her. His entire vision was focused inwards, his mind racing. _Someone else._ Only one person's image filled his mind. The reason he wrote _Chocolate_. Sho licked his lips, rubbing his fingers together in memory. Millions of excuses sprang to mind to prevent the leap he was tempted to take. It wasn't ethical, imagining just anyone. It wasn't moral. Probably. He rubbed his jaw with his hand, his eyes still staring unseeing at the set. _He's a friend,_ he told himself. It wouldn't fit the scene. He needed to find someone who was more than a friend.

 _Imagine me as whoever I need to be to make you want me_.

Mimori-san. Kyoko was right; Mimori-san would work best. After all, he knew what it felt like to kiss Poochi. That would definitely help with acting out of his imagination. Sho clenched his fists and stalked after Kyoko. This was such a cop-out; he should be able to do this just with Kyoko. But he knew he would freeze again-too much unresolved tension lay between them still and all of it ran contrary to desire. If this was as close as he could get to satisfying his and her professional commitments, he needed to do it. He got himself into this mess trying to help a friend, and now another person - another friend? - needed him to get her through it. The strategy left a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach though.

He traced his eyes down over her frame as he followed her anyways, forcing himself to mentally enhance each of her features. Wider hips, swaying side to side under the red silk. Pouty lips, eager to kiss him. Massive, bouncing boobs freely hanging under the kimono. Sho bit his tongue. They'd just get in the way when she sparred. Giant boobs were totally impractical. And Poochi was not even the best kisser. Too… enthusiastic. Too desperate to please him.

 _But her boobs were squeezable and soft and perfect for burying faces in!_ Sho mentally shouted at himself in frustration, shaking his head to clear out the nonsense. He knew his tastes. Even Kyoko knew his tastes! He took his place behind Kyoko, gripping her arm and holding his face inches away from her bare skin. He saw her smile out of the corner of his eye as she whispered to him. "No more NGs, Shoutaro. I'm ready to be done with this MV." He merely huffed in response and looked down over the front of her kimono, reciting _bigger boobs, bouncy boobs_ in his head. Stinking hard to imagine realistically on her frame. Someone muscular and lean would be far easier. His lyrics started playing in the background. He could just barely hear Shoko muttering to the director about auditory inspiration for singer-songwriters being a necessary tool.

_Feeling you is my craving_

_Can't sustain these boundaries_

_Your breath brands my skin_

_A sudden rush, a call to sin_

_My drug I'm collapsing into you_

He felt his own breath rushing back over his face, reflecting off Kyoko's skin. Kyoko wanted one take. Could he make this scene work with Poochi? His lyrics drew out too many memories and he felt his hand twitch involuntarily, craving that touch again. He should risk it for Kyoko. No one would ever know. Give her what she wanted in one take-all he needed to do was let go of trying to control this need. The director called "Action" and Sho freed his breath and his imagination in one rush.

He let himself feel need for him. He let her body become his as he sank into his mind's eye, allowing the lyrics and the touches to become more realistic than his sense of sight. Sho felt himself shift and didn't resist. The person in front of him moved against him, their sparring dance beginning.

Each attack, each thrust of a knee, each grunt, each twist was just a tool for him to draw this person closer. Sho caught every single one, his movements firm but gentle as he slowly drew them in closer and tighter. He could feel their pulse beat rapidly against his palm as he gripped their wrist, twisting it up and out in the blocking motion as their other hand chopped through, aiming for his neck. He turned, letting go of their wrist, feeling their heat behind him. Their robe rustled against his as their leg swung out in a kick and Sho ducked, his body following the memorized choreography as his senses reveled in the anticipation of the next touch. He spun up and around, rising from under the kick to grip them around the back of their neck, pressing his face close to theirs as he slid his hand slowly down the line of their shoulder, catching the edge of their kimono. He felt their skin shiver beneath his hand, their body responding to his touch. He wanted more.

He breathed deeply as he pulled the robe down, exposing bare skin to the sun. He felt his own robe give to their tug and smiled, his eyes blazing as he shifted his shoulders and let it drop to his waist. He could tell by the way their hands touched his skin that they wanted him too - lingering, tracing, holding out a pause too long before lifting off to attack again. It was intoxicating, knowing that his need was returned. They could deny it as long as they wanted to; he would force it out of them. The spar became a dance, arms intertwining and releasing before joining together, pressing up tight against each other. He could feel their breath on his chest, then a chill as they retreated. He blocked a kick and spun in to grip their waist, leaning forward to press himself fully into their body. They slid down, their hands resting on his bare waist as they pushed down and back, seemingly torn between finding the angle for securing release from his hold and diving in deeper. Sho wanted to force the issue. He was desperate to end the dance and claim them as his own. He could feel his heart racing with adrenaline from his need.

There! An opening. Sho's leg darted in, white robes swirling against red as he hooked his foot behind their knee and jerked, pushing down and back on their shoulder even as he wrapped his arm around their waist to fall together. They twisted at the last second, pushing up and forwards on their planted foot, spinning Sho around with a gasp so he fell first, their weight falling on top of him. Sho didn't hesitate-his arms reached up, his eyes closing as he moved to pull them down into his kiss.

He couldn't - their arms were planted with elbows locked - this wasn't the script. Sho's eyes shot open and he cursed as he saw not Koga but Kyoko staring out beyond him, her eyes fixated on something past the edge of the set. "CUT!" rang out across the beach for the third time.

Sho pushed her off him quickly, trying to regain his bearings. His fall into chaos had been swift and unsettling. If she was going to make him do it again, he desperately needed time to compose himself. He turned to berate her. She was on her knees on the ground, a strange half-smile flitting across her lips. Her eyes were starting to glow with the oddest display of delirious joy. It was almost frightening. Sho followed her gaze and saw a tall, blonde foreigner standing no more than ten paces away from their set, his fists clenched as he stared murderously at Sho. Sho stared back at him, confused as to what the man's business with him was but ready for anything. A senseless fight would be perfect for releasing his adrenaline. He might be able to just make it through a second take without losing his mind if he could punch someone. A crew member was rushing over to shoo away the interloper when Kyoko surged to her feet and started running toward him, shouting, "Corn!"

"Corn…?" Sho said, his voice full of disbelief. "What the f-" He heard a buzz erupt behind him on set and turned to see the director angrily gesturing at Kyoko and he. Crap, they were wasting time. He looked back, ready to grab Kyoko, but the odd foreigner had turned and was rapidly stalking off into the forest. Kyoko was actually running after him!

"Kyoko! Get back here!" He shouted in disbelief. All that nonsense about being professional and now she's chasing giant Russian men into the woods in the middle of their shoot. "Director-sama!" he turned and bowed to the man, his pride grating against the move. He needed to get her back. "I will fetch her, please await us!" He paused a beat to wait for the man's curt nod, then raced off after her. He heard the director muttering about irresponsible, overpaid talent as he struggled to run with his kimono tangling around his legs.

This made them even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork inspiring and feeding me. Love this interpretation of their MV by Kyiora so much. SO MUCH.


	73. No Turning Back

His whole body shook as he stalked back to the forest. This was not the plan. The plan was supposed to be magic. It was a guaranteed smash for his fairy-loving Kyoko. Mirrors and surprise entrances and sparkles and the perfect reveal of his alter-ego, then they'd run away together into the forest to the picnic he'd prepared, where he could slowly and lovingly tell her all as they sat in the dappled sunlight.

This was total shit. He should've waited until he knew they were done filming. She'd told him this MV was going to be a train wreck. She'd assured him she had no feelings for Fuwa. She'd done everything except give him the actual script, and that curiosity - the need to see for himself what Fuwa had roped her into - had burned inside him. Too soon his feet wandered their way to that cursed strip of beach.

At first, it was perfect. Watching Fuwa Sho slowly fall apart from the treeline was sweet poetry. The boy was tragically off his game. He looked like a zombie the first take, then an angry little brother the second. Kuon had crossed his arms over his chest, relaxing back against a tree. A few more takes like this and the whole MV would be trash except Kyoko's parts. Her homage to Momiji was perfect: a touch of the kunoichi's coldness and stunning martial skills without completely embodying her and muddling the storylines.

He'd watched her pull the twerp aside and lecture him, a slow grin crossing his face as he recognized the posture and attitude as ones she'd borrowed from him. He'd whispered encouragements to her from his hiding place like "rip him to shreds" and other such pleasing platitudes.

Kuon should've known she would be far too effective. After her coaching Fuwa stood still, seemingly mesmerized. Kuon expected another crash-and-burn, but when the director called action it was as if the boy had transformed. Kyoko had somehow poured a piece of her talent into that tiny asinine brain. Of all the scenes for them to click! Kuon's jealous rage had slowly risen as he watched the sparring unfold beneath him, each attack and defense growing more and more sensual as the take progressed. He could see her cheeks flushing. Her eyes grew heated and her touches lingered slightly too long. Fuwa's hands touched her where no man's hands except his should be allowed. Fuwa tugged on her kimono and Kuon snapped. His body started racing down the hill toward them, no plan formed, no cautions pretaken, his being overwhelmed with a visceral need to get down there and rip the two of them apart before he touched another centimeter of her skin. Twenty paces out Fuwa snagged her knee and the pair tumbled to the ground, Kyoko flipping to land on top of him. Fuwa pulled her down to his kiss - _not_ _again_ \- he wasn't going to make it in time. Kuon heard a guttural cry ripped from his own chest.

Kyoko's face lifted at the sound and her eyes met his. He saw her face transform. "Corn!" She cried, standing and walking toward him. He flashed a murderous glare at Fuwa, damning him for his meddling. He had to get away. This wasn't how he wanted to tell her. He tore himself away from them before he could interrupt further, hoping against hope she'd let him leave and pull of the best parts of the plan later. Calmly.

He looked back over his shoulder. She was following him! In the middle of a shoot- shit, now he was throwing away his chance for the perfect reveal and her reputation along with it. Kuon walked faster, reaching the treeline. He shoved aside a branch and crashed through the forest undergrowth. If he could just find a place to hide, she would go back to work and he could try again. Later.

He saw a cluster of boulders and turned to head for them but was stopped short by a tug on his sleeve.

"Corn!" her voice called from immediately behind him, her fingers twisted into his shirt. He couldn't believe she was able to keep up. He tried to brush off her hand but she threw her entire body at him, hugging him from behind. "It is you! You came back! Is it the beach? The beach is a connection to where you live in the Fairy Kingdom, isn't it? Last time was a beach, and I'm at a beach just as beautiful and magical and here you are! Or water— when we were kids it was by water too! Oh, Corn, I was so frightened when you jumped off the building but you flew." She pulled back slightly, beaming up at him. "You flew! Just like when we were little! Your wings…" she trailed off, her eyes sparkling.

Kuon was desperately trying to slow his breathing. His entire script was out the window. He had to get control back. He had to make sure her career wasn't impacted by his rashness. He needed a redo.

"You left the set for a personal matter?" He heard himself saying, his voice reserved, cold. "Do you know how many people you are inconveniencing right now?"

Kyoko pulled back from him slightly, confused. "Corn?"

Kuon turned to look at her, standing straight and holding her out at arm's length, his eyes serious. "Go back, Kyoko. A true actress never lets her personal matters come between the film and success."

Kyoko's face slowly blanched as she stared at him. She shook her head as if she were trying to clear her thoughts. She looked up at him again, her hands shaking slightly as she spoke a single word. "Sempai…?"

 _Shit_.

Kuon's mind whirred, trying to think of a way to cover up his slip with some fairy excuse. He'd been so intent on carving out a small space of time for himself to recover, to get back to the plan, that he'd slipped. He used a method guaranteed to force her back to work - but it was one of Tsuruga Ren's classics.

She stepped back from him, studying his face, her gaze darting downwards from shoulders to arms to waist to legs. He knew what she was doing: measuring him. Kuon grimaced. He reached out for her. Time to forget all the plans, forget all the insecurities and fears and consequences and wrap her in his arms and just tell her all of it. He'd figure out how to clean up the mess from his choices later.

Curses and crashes erupted from the forest behind them and the white-clad figure of Fuwa Sho barged into their small clearing.

"Damnit, Kyoko, there you are!" Fuwa stomped over to her side and tugged at her arm, ripping her away from Kuon. "Who in the hell are you?" he said, glaring at Kuon.

"Sempai," Kyoko answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Fuwa looked at her in startlement. "This guy? A sempai?" His gaze bounced from one to the other, trying to make sense of the situation. "Whatever. We need to get back; the Director is furious with you."

Kyoko shook her head, but Fuwa started to pull her away regardless. Kuon stepped forward to stop her. He paused, realizing the cost to her career if he stole her now.

"Kyoko," he said softly. "Meet me tonight."

Fuwa shot him a glare but Kuon ignored him, his entire being focused on her, tensed for her response. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with uncertainty. But still- she looked at him. She nodded.

She turned and let herself be pulled away by Fuwa.

Kuon sagged against the tree. He'd screwed this up. Typical. He should've told her that first night in the car when she saw his contacts. He wasted so much time worrying, and it had all exploded anyways. He looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. "No turning back now, Hizuri," he said to the empty forest. In the distance he could hear a rise of noise as activity resumed on the set. Taking a deep breath, Kuon pushed himself upright. He turned to look in her direction. This was it. Know and be fully known, Kuon. He stepped out into the sunlight and took a deep breath.

Four hours until nightfall.


	74. The Whole Thing About Listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He is not Russian Senpai. He is Stupid Huge Man. Gawd, Sho, get it right. —Aikori

She kept lagging behind, looking over her shoulder towards the treeline. Sho huffed. The way she was acting, that foreigner had to be some amazing sempai. Or amazingly horrific, scarring her for life. Either way he didn't like the fact she kept attracting guys that had this impact on her. The way his glare sent creeps shooting down Sho's back had only been duplicated by Tsuruga Ren. Sho shook his head rapidly. He was obsessing about Tsuruga-san, injecting him into this scenario. Too many people in his life involved with that man.

They reached the set to find Shoko deep in conversation with the director, pointing at the replay on the small travel screen.

"We're already over hours," the director said. "Let's go with your suggestion and make it a wrap. Team- Tuesday, Tokyo, B-roll in studio of Fuwa's performances to flesh out the takes from today." He looked up at their entrance and gestured them over, a frown on his face.

Shoko interjected first. "Fuwa, Kyoko, the director has decided he has enough material from today for a music video. The sparring scene was excellent and makes up the bulk of the script anyways."

The director nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. Kyoko stepped forward in front of Sho and dipped into a deep dogeza center-stage. The set fell silent with her act of self-abasement.

"Director-sama, please forgive me. I have caused chaos on set with my impulsiveness." Her voice shook slightly as she spoke. "I am ready to accept the consequences of my actions."

The director stood hastily, bending to help Kyoko up. "Kyoko, no need, no need. I admit it was unexpected. Please have any guests follow proper protocol next time."

"Next time…?" Kyoko muttered, looking up from her bow.

"Your work was impeccable until the end. The way you managed to motivate and draw along your costar saved the production." Sho reddened with embarrassment, but held himself back. The director was right, and if he stayed silent both of them could maybe dig out of this hole thanks to her talent. "I am hopeful to work together again." He looked up at the treeline thoughtfully. "Any chance your ah, friend has an interest in modeling? I am always looking for interesting physiques to serve as extras in my videos."

Kyoko's face reddened, then paled. "My friend?" she squeaked. "He's- he's not available right now."

The director nodded. "Here's my card for him, if he changes his mind." He patted Kyoko on the shoulder, then turned to look at Sho. Sho bowed his head slightly, and the director nodded, turning to go organize the set breakdown. Shoko shepherded Kyoko over to costuming to change. She called over her shoulder for Sho to follow, but he wasn't listening.

The assistant director was running through the raw footage, doing a last check for any errors like boom mics in the frame. He kept slowing and rewinding the moment where Kyoko landed on top of Sho, scanning the beach behind them for anything out of place. Sho swallowed hard. Over and over again his face leaned up toward Kyoko's, his lips parted and eyes hooded as he strove to kiss her.

"Eager and desperate," the director's voice rang clearly over his shoulder. "You didn't give it easy, but still got just what we wanted. Didn't know you had the hots for Kyoko, Fuwa," he joked, elbowing him. "Though I can't blame you. She was fiery on set today. Outstanding."

"I wasn't thinking about her," Sho said, his voice soft. He was transfixed by his own expression. Did he actually look like that? Thinking about… him?

"Ah-hah! What's this?" the director turned to face Sho, smiling. Several other staffers in the area perked up, their ears cued to juicy gossip. Sho ignored them all, trying to force himself to breathe deeply. He excused himself and left to change without another word.

He found Kyoko standing outside her trailer, watching the trees. She looked ready to bolt - either into the forest or backwards and away; it was hard to tell. He touched her elbow and she jumped, clutching her bag's strap. "Ey," he said, trying to be soothing. "Don't be such a freak. Let's go get food."

Kyoko shook her head and pulled away. "I'm not going back up to the hotel today."

Sho scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically at her. "Food. Now. Then you can come skulk around waiting for your Russian sempai."

Her face flushed but she glared at him, mimicking a punch to the gut.

"That's better," he laughed, tugging at her arm. "Now come eat." He pulled her forward again and this time she trailed after him, still glancing back frequently but moving. He considered it a win.

"So…" Sho said casually over their bentos,trying to lead her to speak. The pair were ensconced in Shoko's room; after his display on set he didn't want any rumors spreading by being seen in public together. Or entering one or the other's rooms. "Today was…" he trailed off. Where to even start? Kyoko was poking at her rice with her chopstick, her face a mask.

Sho sat his own bento down with a huff, chewing on his tongue as he tried to figure out where to go with her. "Hey, listen," he started, poking her shoulder. "I don't care. Got it? But if you want to talk about it, you know, what you said."

Kyoko looked up at him curiously. "What I said?"

"Yeah," Sho said, turning his face away in embarrassment. "The whole I'm here, I'm there, I'm not here thing about listening."

Kyoko blurted out a small laugh. She sat her chopsticks down and cradled her head in her hands, staring out the window. "Thanks, Shotaro," she said, her face twisted in a smirk. "But I don't need to talk to you. I need to talk to… him." She moved to stand and he pushed himself up to stand beside her.

"Ah," he paused. Words just didn't come easily when he was trying not to bicker with her. "Ok. Um, thanks for today."

"Don't thank me, thank Mimori-san. She's the one you mentally abused, poor girl." Kyoko grimaced, pretending to act ill as she gathered up her things.

Sho bit his lip. He could tell her. He could ask her what to do. He shook his head rapidly. That was a very, very, bad idea. Kyoko was still just some country bumpkin, no way she'd know anything about- he shook his head again. She'd just use it to tease him. Maybe she'd stop kicking his shin and just start mocking him. There was that. He glanced at her; she was completely ignoring him as she made her way to the door, lost in thought.

"Ah, Kyoko- take your bento," he said, shoving the lid on and holding it out at her. She waved back at him in refusal.

"Go ahead; I'm not hungry."

"You don't ever miss meals," Sho accused just as her stomach growled loudly. He saw her stop and huff, obviously annoyed with herself. Kyoko held her hand out backwards and he walked over to put the bento in it. "I'll, ah, just be in my room. If you need anything."

Kyoko finally turned to look at him with a small smile. "You don't have to try this hard, Sho. We are what we are. Maybe someday it'll be different, but right now," she sighed. "I just need space." She looked out the window toward the ocean again. "Thanks," she said, hefting the bento. She slid through the door, letting it close softly behind her.

We are what we are. Sho ruffled his hair, finally able to do so after hours in costume. We are what we are.

His choices had led them there. His ignorance and apathy and total disregard for someone else's feelings. Sho walked over and dumped his bento in the trash. At least now he knew what was wrong with him. Could he fix it in time to not ruin another friendship? Sho mussed with his hair again, wanting it to look as crazy as he felt right now. Seriously, what was going on with him? How had a fake apology to try and appease Koga turned into actually trying to help her? He scowled at himself. What was with all this self-doubt! He was Fuwa Sho! Number one in all Japan, genius singer with the perfect body! He flexed his muscles, looking in the balcony double doors for his reflection. Instead, his eyes lit on Kyoko walking down to the beach alone. He felt his chest deflate.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he yelled at the empty room. "Why can't I just have what I want?!" Kyoko wasn't helping, and he certainly wasn't going to give her more leverage over him. And by now Koga- Sho grimaced. He'd been doing so well at keeping at bay all weekend what Koga was doing. Who Koga was with. None of his business. Sho growled and turned to the minibar, ripping open the shot of whisky.


	75. Return to the Water's Edge

Kyoko watched the sun set over the waves. She'd been sitting on this rock since she left Sho's room, watching the tide come in and go out again. The waves seemed to ebb and rise with the thoughts in her mind.

 _Corn_ _is Ren. Ren is Corn._

Was it a strange joke? But then how did he find out about Corn's appearance? She'd never described him in detail. Although he did have the best chance of imitating Corn of anyone alive, since the only time she'd seen Corn grown up he'd taken the form of Tsuruga Ren.

Kyoko paused.

Corn had so perfectly imitated Ren's physique. His voice. Even some of his gestures. It was likely Ren had fairy ancestors. It would explain everything. Mostly. But what if it wasn't Ren who wasn't who she suspected? What if it was…?

Kyoko shook her head. No, Corn was himself. He had to be real. Corn's fairy magic had helped her survive all these years. It was alive in the Corn stone. And then he'd come back to her, and she'd freed him - well, the High Priestess had - and he'd flown! Kyoko touched her lips. He'd flown.

But why would Ren pretend to be Corn? Maybe it was for a role- some kind of Russian movie, like Sho had suspected. And he just hadn't told her about it yet. And he showed up here to surprise her with the new disguise, like he'd surprised her with Cain Heel. That made a strange sort of sense. Right?

Kyoko plopped her head in her hands, massaging her temples. Her brain hurt. He'd promised to be here tonight. The best thing she could do right now was to stop trying to figure it out herself and wait.

An hour later, Kyoko was leaning back against the bolder, looking up at the stars as they started to show through the dusky evening light. She felt him draw near and closed her eyes, her emotions a sudden rush of anxiety and expectation.

"...Ren?" she asked, quietly.

She felt him pause beside her, even his breath stilled. He reached over, his fingers hesitant and light as they brushed back a strand of her hair from her face. "Yes."

Kyoko shuddered at the single syllable, bracing herself against the steady rock.

"And no," he continued, walking around to stand in front of her. Kyoko looked up at him, her eyes wide with confusion. "Please don't run," he said softly. She shook her head, sinking to sit on the soft sand. Her mind was spinning. _Corn is Ren; Ren is Corn._ Ren is…? She struggled to meet his gaze, tearing her eyes away as she tried to make sense of the few words he'd said.

He sat down beside her, then in one motion pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. His warmth surrounded her. Her mind flashed back to when she'd been disowned by her mother and found herself wrapped in his arms, finding peace. She smiled sadly. She'd thought he was Corn that night, too. She felt tears gather in the corner of her eyes. How many important moments with him had started with her mistaking him for someone else? Was that why he had shown up this way today? She wanted to shout and cry and demand answers - but she sat still instead, laying her hand on top of his. She squeezed his hand.

"Tell me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt his chest move as he sucked in a deep breath, then slowly released it, tickling the hairs on her neck.

"My name is Kuon," he started. "But you couldn't say it, so you called me Corn."

Her hand trembling on top of his, she looked out over the depths of the ocean as piece by piece he wove his story. A lost boy forced on a trip by his father, meeting the first person who saw him as him, who believed in him, who needed _him -_ not his family name. She freed him with her joy and faith. She had been his fairy princess just as certainly as he had been her fairy prince. Kyoko's mind was numb at the impossibility of it all, her finger tracing small circles on his palm as she listened to his memories of their hamburger rocks and sunshine.

Kyoko wanted to interrupt; she had so many questions, but his words ran over their entwined bodies like a spell, holding her still as his story grew darker and colder. The years since he'd left their secret stream had been hard, stealing the light in his eyes. He didn't give details, not yet, but she could hear a desperate edge in his voice when he spoke of being haunted and chased, of striving and failing, of rivalry morphing into bitter hatred that made her blood run cold.

"Then Rick found me," he said, his voice tender for the first time since he'd spoken of leaving Kyoto. Her hand clenched over his tightly in hope. "He taught me strength, like you taught me hope." He fell silent, the only noise the waves crashing against the shore. She waited, her hand still gripping his. The silence grew, becoming harder to break. She loosened her grip on his hand, seeking to turn and look at him, but he gasped and grabbed for her, clenching her hand in both of his as if he were drowning. He had pulled away slightly and the cool evening air brushed against her shoulder, making the dampness where his face had rested unmistakable.

"Are you… crying?" she said in a whisper, desperately wanting to turn and face him but unable to move inside his grip. He shook his head slightly, but didn't speak. "Ren," she said, then stopped. "...Kuon. Let me see you." He shook his head again, but she pried her hands out from under his and pushed herself around, his hold on her willingly loosening with each movement.

She turned to sit sideways in his lap and clasped his face in both her hands. Kyoko gasped, her own eyes watering as she saw the pain and loss suffusing his face even in the dim moonlight. She felt her own emotions rise in answer, her eyes filling with tears of empathy and regret for not knowing everything sooner. A sudden instinct overcame her and she leaned into him, lightly kissing away the tears at the corner of his eyes. He shuddered, his eyes closing. She kissed his cheeks, wanting to erase everything, and felt his features relax beneath her touch. He rested his forehead against hers, his breath slowing.

"Tell me," she whispered, her breath warm on his face. He nodded, leaving his forehead pressed against hers.

"He taught me strength," he said again, his voice shaky. His hands gripped his own knees. She reached behind her and picked up each of his hands, wrapping his arms around her. She lay her head down on his shoulder, wrapping her own arms around his chest.

"But I didn't know control," he finally continued, cinching his arms around her. "I took the power he taught me and went beserk, paying back evil for evil. He tried to stop me, to hold me back, but I was too far gone- and it cost him his life." Kyoko tried to hide her sudden intake of breath but knew he could feel it. She rubbed her hands on his back. She wasn't leaving. She knew this darkness; she'd seen it in Cain. He was finally letting her in. All this time she had been right; there was another role within him- only it wasn't a role. It was Kuon, and he was still lost. It was her job to protect him and pull him out.

 _No_ , she thought to herself. _Not my job._ She squeezed him tightly, clinging to him. _My joy. My desperate joy._

"Tell me," she said firmly. She would know him. For the first time, she would know _him_.

He shuddered in her arms, then gave the smallest of nods, his head barely moving as his hair brushed against her cheek. The story came in sudden stops and starts, his pitch low and hushed as if speaking the words aloud could break him. He told her of a bloody fight- a chase- Rick's unheeded warning- his need to destroy the enemy- and then the car. She felt him growing cold beneath her and remembered Katsuki and Ren's paralysis after the car accident. Kyoko squeezed her eyes shut in grief as the depth of his trauma washed over her. " Oh Ren…" she said softly. "It's not your fault." He was shaking, his hands clutching her sides tight enough to bruise.

Kyoko took as deep a breath as she could within his binding embrace, beginning again. "Kuon," she said softly, turning her face so she could whisper into his ear. "It's not your fault." He let out a giant sobbing breath, his neck muscles straining as he held his head upright. She whispered again into his ear, her breath moving his fine blonde hair. "It's not your fault, Kuon." She let herself say his name slowly, carefully. Purposefully. His head dropped to her shoulder, his body shaking as he cried silently. She held him tight, rocking slightly against him in unconscious comforting movement.

Slowly, his sobs ceased and his body stilled. She sat still, willing to wait the whole night - her whole life - if he needed her to. Only when she felt his body warm and his chest rising and falling slowly beneath her did she pull back slightly. She wanted to see his face.

His eyes were closed, his head resting back against the stone they leaned against. His soft blonde locks were luminous in the cool moonlight where they fell across his face. She brushed them to the side and his eyes opened, glinting green. He didn't speak, clasping his fingers together behind her back. Kyoko smiled sadly at him, her fingertips resting lightly on his cheek.

"You should've told me sooner," she said quietly. Kuon's expression didn't change as he shook his head slowly. "Why… Kuon? Why hide?"

"I couldn't lose you again," he said simply.

Kyoko took a deep breath, holding his face in her hands. "Kuon," she said, forcing him to look directly at her. " _You_ never had me. I want to know… you."

"I'm not Kuon anymore," he said, his eyes desperately serious as he stared at her. She felt him squeeze her reflexively, then start to release. She shook her head and let go of his face to wrap her arms around him, forcing him to hold her close.

"You've never not been you, inside. Let yourself be you with me," she said, trying to pour her hope and trust in him into her words. "It's just us." She paused, a secret smile flitting across her face. "Two kids by the water, in our own secret world."

Kuon pushed her back away from him and she shook her head, refusing to look at him. She didn't want to risk seeing his features closed against her request. If he tried to fall back into Ren… she'd fallen in love with Ren, but now, knowing that he wasn't all of him, she couldn't accept it. "I want all of you," she whispered, clutching his shirt in her fists. He nudged her again and she looked up with a shaky sigh.

He was beaming at her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears and a look of true joy that she hadn't seen since Corn leapt over the stream to make her smile. She blurted out a laugh of delight. "Corn-" she started. His lips sealed the rest of her words as he pulled her in for a kiss. She could feel his hands trembling on her back as their lips melded. She felt about to burst; her hands let go of his shirt and she pulled him in tight, pressing herself into him. He was here. Corn. Kuon. Hers.

He broke their kiss with a hushed breath, wrapping her into a tight embrace. She rested against him, her hand slowly tracing over his shoulders, his jawline, playing with his hair, following the line of his collarbone. They rested in one another's arms, her hand ceaselessly rejoicing in the feeling of his true self holding her. The light touches eased and comforted each of them until their breathing slowed and Kuon and Kyoko fell into peaceful sleep in one another's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CUE THE CHORUS OF AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. And because it's me, I really want to write a lemon for this. HAHA. EMYM-Makes Me Want You coming soon for this chapter. Can't leave fluff well enough alone...


	76. Last Night

Dawn rose quietly, the stones keeping the pair hidden in cool shadows and tucked into each other's warm embrace. A faint cry echoed across the beach, rousing Kyoko from her dreams. She took a deep, languid breath, drinking in his scent as she buried herself back into his shoulder.

The cry grew a form. The form grew syllables. Kyoko sat upright, her hands pressed against Kuon's shoulders.

"Kyoko!" the voice called urgently.

Kyoko looked at Kuon in alarm. He had stirred awake with her movements, blinking his eyes sleepily at her. Her name rang out across the beach again and his eyes widened, his head jerking towards the sound. Telling her all was one thing - she was fairly certain, however, that Kuon was not ready to tell the world.

"Shh," she said, her finger pressed up against his lips. She stood up and brushed herself off. With a smile, she leaned down and pecked him on the forehead before running around the rocks to intercept her seeker.

"Oh! Shoko-san!" Kyoko called out in surprise, waving at her and hurriedly crossing the sand to Shoko's side, striving to put as much distance between them and Kuon's hiding place as possible.

"Kyoko!" Shoko gasped, patting the girl's shoulders with an urgent look on her face. "You're alright!" Kyoko smiled at her, puzzled, before turning bright red with realization. She tried to bow in apology but Shoko caught her and held her upright.

"I'm sorry! I fell asleep on the beach in a nook in the rocks. I was fine! Just enjoying nature. I'm almost never at the beach; I got caught up- I-"

Shoko laughed, releasing Kyoko and stepping back to send a quick message on her phone. She rattled off words as she texted. "Your room was empty and unslept in- I went to find Sho and ask him if he knew, but wouldn't you know the boy's room looked the same! He sent me a ridiculous text around 1 am that he was headed back to Tokyo by himself, but I still couldn't get ahold of you, and he swore up and down you weren't with him." She shook her head. "It's perfectly like him to do as he pleases, when he pleases, and leave me with the minibar bill- but for you!" Shoko turned to Kyoko, her eyes mockingly suspicious but kind. "Don't let him rub off on you, Kyoko-chan."

Kyoko grinned, a short laugh escaping her. "Raiding minibars has never been my style, Shoko-san. I'm very sorry for worrying you." She bowed slightly in sincerity.

"It's fine, it's fine," Shoko said, waving her apology away. "Let's head back to the hotel. You look like you could use a warm shower, and then we'll chase that silly boy back to the city." Kyoko nodded in agreement, looking back over her shoulder only once. She caught sight of a scrawling in the sand and excused herself from Shoko to run back to the rocks, claiming she'd forgotten something.

A handwritten K + K encircled by a heart covered the spot where the two of them had spent the night. Kyoko beamed, biting her lip to contain the urge to laugh with glee. She looked around, trying to spot him, but he was gone. _My fairy prince has flown away_ , she mused, bending down to add her own "forever" beneath their initials before running back to walk alongside Shoko to the hotel.

Sho's night had been spent considerably less comfortably, stuffed into the back of a taxi on his way back to Tokyo. He'd shoved every bottle the minibar held into his coat pockets, thankful for the bounty of concealment places. He'd grabbed an old pair of his leather pants and a jacket with straps and chains and spikes. Stupid choice for trying to sleep in the back of this godforsaken midnight cab, but it fit his mood when he'd gotten out of the shower. He wasn't about to throw on anything that remind him of Tsuruga- too many reasons to think of that prick without echoing his prissy clothing style. No matter how devastatingly handsome Sho looked in it. He tugged a random bottle out from his inner coat pocket and scowled. Rum. Nasty straight. He twisted open the lid and threw it back anyways, biting off a gag. Sho's head lolled against the back of the seat, his eyes focusing and unfocusing lazily at the street lights overhead. They grew in number and intensity until the stream became a blur of neon and white. Tokyo.

Half an hour and three more shots later, the taxi stopped in front of the most expensive apartment building in Omotesando. Sho threw a wad of cash at the driver and shoved himself out of the car, several small empty glass bottles clinking to the floor as his lap disappeared. The driver hollered at him to clean up his mess but Sho ignored him, trying to stand straight and get his jacket situated right on his shoulders. With a honk, the taxi pulled away, leaving Sho standing somewhat unsteadily in the middle of the sidewalk. Nightlife echoed around him, but Sho's eyes focused on the first barrier: swinging doors.

His first attempt to breach them was a disaster. Rubbing his cheek still stinging from impact, Sho reexamined the enemy. He was about to try the rightmost door when the center opened, revealing the concierge.

"Mr. Hirohume's companion," he said respectfully, as he gestured for Sho to enter.

"Mmm," Sho grunted in acknowledgment. Proper respect. Never mind the fact that the ass turned to his compatriot and argued that drunks couldn't be left loitering in front of the building; it was bad for appearances. "11th floor," he drawled, trying to stride forcefully over to the elevators but not quite making it in a straight line.

The concierge pressed the correct button for him and held the door open while Sho fumbled inside, bracing himself for the elevator's rise with both hands on a guardrail. Tricksy things, elevators. He heard a comment from the concierge again, something to the other man about promising to throw him out if he was still in the elevator when it came back down. Sho wouldn't be. He had something to frickin' celebrate.

The doors dinged open and Sho spun himself around, immediately regretting the speed of his action. He stood very still for a moment, trying to stop the spinning room, but threw himself forward with a lurch when the doors binged again and started to close. "Nope! Not throwing Fuwa Sho out, you asses!" he said victoriously as he slid through the opening to stumble onto Koga's hallway. He pumped his fist in triumph, bracing himself against the wall. A song bubbled to his lips as he wove his way down to Koga's door.

"We are the champions, my friends," he sang loudly, his roughly American accent thick and slurred. "We'll keep on fighting- _oh yeah!_ " He shouted, interrupting himself. "Toooo the end!" Sho tried to do an air guitar but tripped when he went to kick out dramatically on the second chord. "No time for losers, 'cuz we are the- hmm… the…" The next lyrics escaped him. He stopped, puzzled, strumming his air guitar. A hand grabbed his elbow and drug him sideways, forcing a surprised yelp out of him.

"Champions, you ridiculous twat," Koga finished for him, closing the door to his apartment after them. "Now tell me what you're doing caterwauling outside my apartment at 2:30 in the morning."

"Not a cat nor a whale," Sho said, wagging his finger at Koga while stumbling toward the kitchen. "But Fuwa Sho! And I'm here to congratulate you!" Sho spun, throwing his arms wide.

Koga frowned at him, making Sho laugh. "You're the…" he circled his finger in the air, looking for the word. "Twaaaaat." The room was still spinning, though he was pretty sure he'd stopped. "Stop moving," he said, walking toward Koga. "Stop moving so much so I can congrash- congrats- say yes, good boy." He tried to hug Koga but Koga side-stepped him. His strong arms grabbed Sho around his chest just before he fell into the wall, holding him upright. "That'll do," Sho said, leaning his head back against Koga's shoulder. He rolled his face to the side lazily, looking up at Koga. "Ah-whoops, nope," he said, blushing. "Too close."

Sho pushed Koga's arms off him and felt his way over to the fridge. Distraction needed.

"What are you looking for?" Koga said, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Sho amble around the kitchen.

"Puuuuuuding," Sho drawled, imitating Koga's drunk voice. "I know Shoko left some. Pretty sure *hic* you don't like it." A sudden thought struck Sho and he shot upright, turning to face Koga with shock on his face. "You didn't throw it away, did you! You wouldn't!" The quick rise and turn was too much for his drunken balance and Sho staggered. Koga stepped forward and steadied him.

"I should just let you fall and knock yourself out," he muttered, holding Sho up against the counter. He bent to the side and pulled a pudding out of the fridge, one arm still holding Sho upright. Sho's eyes followed his movements, a pleased smile on his face. Koga waved the pudding at Sho and sat it on the counter behind him, releasing his grip. He earned a scowl from Koga and felt his smile grow.

He was standing so close. Sho could feel his heart pounding. Koga started to step away- he couldn't let him, not yet- Sho's arms rose on their own accord, grabbing Koga and whirling him back to face him.

It was the same distance as on set that morning. He was mere inches away. Sho's hand clenched around Koga's arm as he watched Koga's lips slowly lose the shape of a frown and become softer, parting, just like his were.

"Shit, no-" Sho suddenly pushed Koga back, turning around to face the counter. His heart beat against his rib cage. He didn't just show Koga that face, did he? Sho ran his fingers through his hair, remembering the blatant desire the entire cast had seen painted on his features on camera. If Koga saw too, he'd… what? He'd- Sho grabbed the pudding and turned, pasting a smile back on his face. Koga was staring at him curiously, his hands calm by his side.

Ripping the top off the pudding as fast as he could, Sho scooped it straight out of the container and popped a big spoonful in his mouth. "Mmmmm," he said, closing his eyes in genuine bliss as the soft strawberry goodness melted on his tongue. "Pudding." Koga laughed and Sho's eyes shot back open to watch. "I like your face," he heard himself say. He took another bite of pudding, then waved his spoon at Koga who reacted with a look of disgust at the unclean utensil in his face. "Even that one, ah-yup. My favorite though is the smile." Sho pushed past Koga into the living room to plop on the couch with his pudding. He needed to stop talking.

"Pudding is life. Life is pudding," he hummed to himself. If his mouth must talk, let it be about pudding. All the pudding. Sho hummed louder. Koga followed him, still silent, his head cocked as if he was watching an interesting show. "You know," Sho said, tapping his spoon on his mouth, a thought striking him. "Tsuruga-" he stopped, pivoting to look up at Koga. "Shit, Kogs, why are you still standing. Don't be a dick." He grabbed for Koga, catching his hand and yanking, forcing him to sit on the couch.

Too close. Think about pudding. Sho held his spoon out to Koga. "Pudding?"

Koga shook his head, grimacing. "You were saying something about Tsuruga," he reminded Sho.

"No, I was saying something about you being a dick. And pudding."

Koga rolled his eyes at him, making as if he were about to stand up again. Sho shoved the spoon into his own mouth and grabbed at Koga's arm, holding him down. "Sfit," he mumbled around the spoon. Koga sat, earning a nod of approval from Sho.

"No wait, get me beer," Sho said, shoving Koga back up. Move him away. Koga growled at him. "I like that expression too," Sho said, losing his filter again as he chuckled at Koga's scowl. He leaned back on the couch, finishing off his pudding. Koga stalked into the kitchen. "Tsuruga won't make you smile," he called after Koga. He didn't even care anymore. The pudding was gone.

The clanking of beer bottle retrieval stopped as Koga froze.

"He's too scary," Sho muttered, licking his empty spoon. Clanking resumed and Koga reappeared, his eyes averted. Sho reached his hand out for the incoming beer. Koga handed him an open one, keeping one for himself. He sat back down next to Sho, studying his beer silently before throwing his head back and chugging the entire bottle.

Sho took a sip of his own to calm himself, intensely aware of Koga's proximity. He needed more pudding.

"I'm not scary," he said quietly, then downed the rest of his drink.


	77. Something Endearing

The spinning, humming, strawberry-pudding-feast mess of Fuwa Sho had woken him up at 2 am to drink all his beer and declare himself not scary. He felt like he should be angry, but instead he was intrigued. Whisky and men indeed. He looked at Sho- tousled blond hair, spike-ridden jacket strewn over the armrest, leather pants ending in slippered feet. He was wearing an outfit similar to the one he'd had on the day they met at the studio, which made all of his playfulness tonight even more bizarre. Not in a bad way, though, Koga admitted to himself. There was something endearing about a man in leather joyfully licking strawberry pudding off a spoon. Certainly not the drunken companion he'd imagined, though. Koga let out a short laugh. At least he wasn't alone.

Sho was fiddling with the label on his empty bottle. A small smile flitted across his face when Koga laughed, then disappeared into an unfocused stare. He glanced sideways, catching Koga watching him. He leaned back against the couch, keeping steady eye contact as he shifted. Sho's gaze drifted down to fixate on his lips. By reflex, Koga licked his lips. Sho's eyes widened intriguingly at the movement.

He could kiss him.

He could almost convince himself everything tonight was on purpose. Sho's sudden appearance. His casual touches. That look he gave him in the kitchen. And if he was wrong— worst case, he could blame it on the alcohol. Or the pudding.

Why not?

Koga leaned forward, setting his bottle on the table as he closed the distance between himself and Sho. He glanced at Sho's lips parted as if in anticipation, then back up at his eyes.

Eyes clouded with uncertainty. Koga cursed at himself and grabbed Sho's empty bottle out of his hand as an excuse for his movement, setting it down on the table. He could swear he heard an exhale-of relief?- from Sho.

Focus. It didn't matter that Sho had come here on his own. Koga remembered the way he'd left. There was no way in hell he should open himself up to another straight man this soon- especially not just for a friends-with-benefits type relationship with someone who smelled like strawberries. Definitely not with a man so obviously struggling with the simple fact of accepting Koga's sexuality.

Koga hung his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Distraction needed. He grabbed the remote and clicked on the television, flipping channels until he found a B-grade horror film halfway over and just getting to the gruesome parts. Sho stood up without a word and stumbled into the kitchen, emerging with an armful of beers and pudding. He sat back down next to Koga and ripped open two puddings simultaneously. The light of the screen reflected off their faces, their only reactions the occasional grunt or chuckle at an especially random or poorly shot attack.

Soon, the table was covered with empty beer cans and pudding containers. Koga leaned back against the sofa, finally relaxed. He could handle friendship with a straight man. It would be easy enough to keep it separate since sober Sho was so clearly awkward around him. Drunk Sho was another matter. Koga gave him a side-eye. The younger man's eyes were heavy-lidded as he slumped against the back of the couch, still trying to focus on the movie. The last pudding container rested empty against his leg. Koga promised himself to keep strawberry pudding stocked just in case an inebriated Sho popped up needing distraction again. Better overindulgence in sugar than having to dig himself out of the mess of temptation the drunken singer's constant physical attentions created.

Sho sighed sleepily next to him and shifted over in the seat, slumping sideways. He plopped his head down, using Koga's lap as a pillow without so much as a please. Koga started to shove him off, but Sho groaned, swatting at him.

"Make me move and I'll puke," Sho threatened.

"Puke on me and die," Koga snarled. This was exactly the type of blurred lines he was trying to avoid.

"Don't make me move then," Sho retorted, his muscles relaxing as he sank further into a comfortable position. Koga bit his lip. He wanted to just kick him off but was genuinely afraid for his lap - and his carpet - so he left him. Sho wouldn't remember anyways. And Koga would make sure he didn't take it for more than what it was: a drunk's convenience.

The movie ended, but Sho didn't move. Koga glanced down at him. He was fast asleep, his features still and peaceful as he lay on Koga's legs. The cool light of the television made him look paler than usual, more fragile. Koga let his fingers rub gently along the shaved side of Sho's head. He loved the feeling of a fresh buzz cut, smooth but fuzzy. Sho stirred, shifting his head farther back in Koga's lap. Koga froze, trying to ignore the shift in pressure that came with Sho's move- then snapped as he saw the wet spot of drool Sho had left on his leg. He pushed Sho up and off him, startling the singer awake.

"Hey!" Sho yelled, then clutched his stomach, doubling over. Koga shoved him toward the bathroom and stood to wipe off his pants as Sho relieved himself. Multiple times.

Several minutes later the groggy and definitely bedraggled singer emerged. Koga handed him a glass of water and an Advil, then pointed at the guest bedroom. Sho shook his head, grimacing.

"Now," Koga said.

"Not alone," Sho replied, surprising Koga. Koga scoffed to cover up his reaction and pushed Sho in front of him, opening the door to the bedroom and shoving the man onto the empty bed. Sho flopped flat, a smile finally crossing his face again. Koga turned to leave but Sho's hand reached out and grabbed his, pulling him backwards.

"I didn't want to say congratulations," Sho whispered. Koga stood very still, his eyes on the door. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the next words. "I don't think he's a good man."

Koga turned his face away, tugging his hand out of Sho's grip.

"Stay," Sho said, his voice anxious. Koga turned to look at him. Sho was flushed, his hair askew and his eyes strangely bereft as he reached out for Koga.

"No," Koga said softly. _I'm gay, and you're not being fair,_ he wanted to say, but he left it at the one syllable.

"Please," Sho said, his eyes closing in slumber. Koga hesitated, taking a step toward the bed. Comfort- just comfort in company. That's all. He could rationalize it.

 _He's a straight man,_ his heart cried. _Who is not going to understand why you're there with him in the morning._

Koga ripped a body pillow off the floor and tucked it in next to Sho, who smiled happily and snuggled himself against the full length of the pillow, falling into deep sleep almost instantly. Koga's fingers twitched, aching to steal the body pillow's place, realizing the full force of warmth he could wrap himself in and shove the consequences to goddamn tomorrow where they belonged.

Sighing, Koga turned and left. He closed the door with a soft click, resting his forehead against the wood. "Not scary, huh?" he whispered into the paneling. With a self-deprecating laugh, he pushed off the door and headed for his own, cold bed.


	78. Singer's Dreams

_So he said what's the problem baby_

_What's the problem I don't know well maybe I'm in love_

_Think about it-_

_Every time I think about it-_

_Can't stop thinking about-_

Sho groaned.

Stupid song stuck in his head. He growled, reaching out to pull the warmth closer. No more thinking.

_Well baby I surrender_

_To the strawberry pudding_

_Never ever end all of this love_

_I didn't mean to do it-_

Not warm. Hot. And bare- and smooth, sliding beneath his fingers. Curves into angles firm beneath skin. Lower, harder angles his fingers traced lightly over, trying to memorize. Sho breathed deep, the smell of alcohol and strawberries not strong enough to cover the undertone of his scent. Like apples. And crisp leaves. And leather. He opened his mouth, gently rubbing his lips along the warm breadth of his back, cinching his arms tight around his waist when he stirred awake.

_How much longer will it take to cure this_

_Just to cure it cause I can't ignore it if it's-_

Sho needed to taste him. He licked his lips, still pressed against his skin, moaning into his back when he felt the muscles stir beneath his mouth. He lay his palm flat against his hip, pushing down and back, feeling the ache below intensify as muscle and bone shifted back to press into him. He bit down, moving his mouth restlessly back and forth, leaving small marks of need scattered on his shoulders.

_Move a little closer_

_Come on, come on_

_I wanna hear you whisper_

Every muscle tensed, forcing Sho's head down and away from the softness of skin as hips moved on their own, twisting over and around and Sho felt himself trapped - held - surrounded. A larger hand pulled his chin up, wet heat of lips crushing against his, answering and challenging his exploration. He felt his own hips pulled forward, the muscles of the leg wrapped around him tight and shaking as it snared him.

Quiet, fierce sounds surrounded him, gasps and hot breaths and moans coming from his own mouth as he let his body take control. He desperately wanted more- to feel his heat, to feel his hardness, his smooth muscles pounding around him, their bodies intertwined like real lovers but this- Sho groaned as he thrust against him- this was- he threw his head back, his breath coming quickly as he felt that familiar tightness begin to spread through him. He clutched Koga's warmth tight with a cry as the convulsions shook him, his desire spilling out bare before his lover.

The haze parted.

Sho clutched Koga's pillow, still trembling with his release.

Shit.

_Come on, come on_

_Just get yourself inside him_

_Love_

_I'm in love_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when mauiomurice finds the most twistedly perfect Disney song for Shoga and then Aki takes it to a whole new level of YUS. Go listen to - and, dare I say, watch - the music video for Accidentally In Love by Counting Crows. You thought it was about ogres. It's not. It's about Shogas.


	79. Song Writing

Sho groaned in agony, rolling on top of the giant pillow he'd found next to him. Such a nice, fluffy, giant warm pillow. He wanted it to eat his head and swallow his headache down into it's fluffy center, safe and protected from the obscene banging and rattling coming from the other side of the door.

The door which he didn't recognize. Sho sat straight up, then almost fell straight back down again, wincing against the blinding pain in his temples.

"Shit," he muttered, holding his head in his hands. "What did I drink." He looked around him, not recognizing the sparse furnishings of the room. "And where the eff did I land myself." Sho looked down. Fully clothed, still—unfortunately. Leather sucked to sleep in. He winced again as he stood, walking gingerly over to the closet. Track jackets and jeans and athletic pants. A hint of where he might have landed himself started to creep into Sho's dull morning brain and he winced a third time. "Shit."

He tried his best to replay the events of last night while he undressed. He had definitely come back to Tokyo, but why? His hotel in Jodogahama was an even better place to get wasted. Sho suddenly remembered and moaned at the stupidity of his own plan. He had wanted to congratulate Koga on snaring Tsuruga. It had seemed like a perfectly genius way to deny everything he was struggling with.

Idiot. If Koga saw through him and realized how messed up he was over the whole Tsuruga thing-how the whole idea was some desperate way to cover up his own desires... "Shit." Sho said again, the word muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head. He pulled on a pair of Koga's track pants, irritated by how the cuffs covered his toes and dragged slightly on the floor behind him.

Unleashing his frustration on the door, Sho barged out of the guest bedroom and into the living room, blinking at the sharp brightness of daylight.

"Morning, Berry Boy," Koga called from the kitchen. "Tired of the chafing?" His tone was slightly mocking as he gestured with a frying pan at Sho's newly acquired outfit. Sho just grimaced at him, making his way over to the kitchen table gingerly, holding one hand against his head. He sank into a chair, watching Koga suspiciously for any signs he'd betrayed himself last night. There's no way Koga wouldn't flaunt his knowledge.

Koga brought in one plate full of breakfast delights and a second with dry toast and a glass full of tomato juice. Sho reached for the full plate and got a hand smack. He glared at Koga but took the toast and juice. "Hangover remedy?" he said.

"Diet options," Koga said around a mouthful of ham, eggs, and rice. "You consumed way too much sugar last night."

Sho stared at him in disbelief, then launched himself across the table to grab at the full plate. Koga whacked him with his fork this time, scooting his chair backwards and carrying the plate off with him. Sho's head pounded in revenge for his rapid movement. He sat back down, snatching the toast off his plate and gnawing at it furiously, covering his aching eyes with his hand. He finished first and went to stand up but Koga _tsk_ ed him, gesturing at the plates.

"Your job," he said. "Kitchen too." Sho's jaw dropped. Koga merely pointed out into the living room. "I cleaned up your pudding containers. You do breakfast." Sho snarled but grabbed up the plates and cups, stalking into the kitchen and running hot water. He needed soap, right? And some kind of a rag or something. He muttered to himself as he banged around under Koga's sink, looking for supplies.

"Top of sink, left."

Sho mimicked his words childishly, grabbing a dish rag and soap from top left and diving in. He did a freaking fantastic job for his first time cleaning dishes ever. They were all almost sparkling, and sort of dry. Or not. Good enough. He wiped his hands on Koga's pants and threw the rag in the sink. Koga was sitting on the couch, watching television again.

Suddenly feeling awkward, Sho stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Maybe he should go clean the dishes again. Actually make them clean. He turned to go back.

"Still not done?"

Sho hesitated, caught.

"It's fine," Koga said, waving dismissively without looking away from the screen.

"I'm gonna head out. You probably have plans."

Koga looked over at him, his face curious. He shrugged.

"Not particularly," he said. "Unless you count finishing this show. I like to finish what I start."

"Not seeing, ah, Tsuruga?" Sho said, trying not to pause before saying his name.

Koga's eyes narrowed as he turned to look at Sho. "What's your game?" he said, his tone cool. Sho held his hands out in surrender, stepping back a pace.

"Nothing, nothing. Just figured you'd have plans. I don't have any problem with it," he said lamely. Nothing he was willing to share, anyways.

Koga seemed to deflate slightly, turning back to face the television. "No plans. Not today, and probably not ever."

A heartbeat passed as Sho's mind caught up to his hearing. His head jerked up as he processed the potential opening. "Ever?" he said, his voice too high for his own liking. He coughed and resaid it, lower. "Ever?"

Koga stood, shoving his hands into his pockets. He turned away from Sho and walked over to the window. Sho followed to stand beside him, wanting to see his expression clearly. He poked Koga's arm with a finger partially covered by the too-long track jacket sleeve. Koga looked over at him, taking in his entire oversized outfit. He finally cracked a smile, the first one this morning, and Sho beamed back at him.

Koga repeated the same word, his expression carefully masked as he watched Sho's reaction. "Ever."

Sho punched him in the arm, grinning ear to ear. "Ever!" He shoved Koga, making Koga stumble backwards in surprise. He followed after him, punching him again in the other arm, drawing Koga to raise his hands in mockery of a boxer's defense. Koga started walking backwards faster, grinning at Sho as he started to dodge and weave. Sho blurted out a laugh and chased after him, but his foot tangled on the cuff of the track pants and he stumbled, cursing as he fell into Koga. Koga tried to brace himself, but their combined backwards momentum pulled them over and they landed in a heap.

Sho pushed himself up, sitting on top of Koga, still beaming. He punched him in the shoulder again for victory rights before he realized he should definitely get off.

He heard himself ask a question instead.

"Why did you kiss that man?"

The words fell out of his mouth like a bomb. He almost jerked his hands up to cover his mouth but forced himself to keep them resting on his legs. His pulse was racing like wildfire; he could swear his face had already turned crimson. Koga hadn't answered yet, his eyes flickering back and forth, studying each of Sho's eyes in turn, his own hands calmly laying on the floor. Sho couldn't make himself say it again. He could still feel the question hanging thick in the air between them, starting to sour the joy of the moment just before.

Koga's mouth barely moved with his reply. "He was attractive to me. Do I need another reason?"

Sho swallowed hard. His mouth felt dry. Too dry. He wanted to shove himself up and run for a drink but he held himself steady. A thousand alarm bells were ringing in his head, every instinct screaming at him to not let the next question drop. The damn words fell from his tongue too easily, like poison. Changing everything.

"What about me?"

Koga's reply was swift and ruthlessly direct. "You're straight."

"I could… try…"

Koga pushed Sho off him and stood, wiping his hands off. Sho sat on the floor, watching as Koga slowly balled his hands into fists by his side, his head hanging back to look at the ceiling. He felt like his chest was being compressed by Koga's fists, tightening and slowly forcing all the air out as he waited.

"I'm not some," Koga paused, gesturing in the air as if searching for words. "F*ing horny virgin. I don't need your- whatever this is. Sympathy offers."

Sho stood. He reached his hand out, then let it fall by his side. "It's not." Koga shook his head. "It's not," Sho said, more insistently.

Koga turned to face him, his face twisted in anger. "So you just want to see what it's like to kiss a man? Have some great gay experience you can write into a song and laugh about over beers with your friends?"

"No," Sho said, startled. Koga scoffed at him, his eyes dark with hurt. Sho scrambled for words. "I don't want to see what it's like to kiss a man. I want to see what it's like to kiss... you."

Koga's eyes went wide. He seemed to pause, his features frozen as his gaze went blank. Sho raised his hand to touch him but Koga drew a deep, shuddering breath and looked straight at Sho. His face was full of torment.

Sho took a step backwards, stunned by the depth of the other man's reaction. Koga reached out and grabbed him by the collar, slamming his back against the window. Sho felt his lips crash against his own, hot and sudden, and he gasped. He pushed back against Koga instinctively but Koga growled, slamming him into the window again as he shoved his tongue into Sho's mouth. Koga's tongue swirled around his own, pulling on it as his lips crushed Sho's almost painfully. He was drowning, and dizzy.

He raised his hand, his fingertips shaking as he traced them over Koga's jawline, finding the spot where his skin dipped in when he kissed. He moaned, pressing himself against Koga as his fingers hovered over the dip, feeling the life and movement of his jaw as he started to kiss Koga back, his lips moving in hesitant, willing answer to the actor's passion.

Koga broke off, his breath ragged and eyes closed. Sho reached for him but Koga turned away, pushing off the glass to stand upright.

"Write your damn song," he said, his voice harsh. "I'm leaving."


	80. Dead-End Plan

Kyoko's phone was buzzing as she climbed out of the shower, ruffling her hair dry with the soft hotel towels. She picked it up and then fumbled it in her eagerness seeing his name - no, his assumed name - on the caller ID.

"Kuon?" she whispered into the phone breathlessly.

He greeted her with a laugh. "You don't have to whisper it. I won't answer on speaker phone."

Kyoko giggled, spinning in place then stopping as her towel slipped. She grabbed it up, trying to tuck the end in without putting down the phone or letting the rest slip.

"Ride home with me."

She blushed, stopping her towel-tucking efforts. "I told Shoko I'd meet her-"

Kuon interrupted her. "So you're going to ditch your oldest friend for some terd's manager?"

Kyoko gasped. "Hey! Not fair!" He laughed and she huffed at him. "I'll tell her something."

"Meet me at the picnic parking lot in an hour," he said, adding a quick final jab before hanging up the phone. "I love you."

Kyoko gasped, covering her mouth. She looked at the phone to make sure. The call was ended. He'd said he loved her - Kuon had - himself! And then just hung up! She looked around the room for confirmation from someone. Finding nothing, not even a friendly sprite, she settled on her own reflection. She stared open-mouthed at herself, then just beamed. Her fairy prince. Her oldest friend. He was back. And he was already hers! She squealed and burst out of the bathroom to get changed.

He was sitting on a picnic table, his long legs swinging and kicking up bits of mulch as he waited for her. She tried to sneak up on him, but he caught her and leapt off the table in one lithe movement to walk briskly to her side. He smiled at her and she felt herself getting woozy. So much blonde and life and brightness. "Fairy," she said aloud. He burst into laughter, hugging her then ruffling her hair like Cain.

"Just don't call me that in America," he said. "It has a different meaning."

"America?" she asked, cocking her head at him in question.

"Ah," he paused, reaching down to take her hand. "That's… where my parents live. I'd like to introduce you to them."

"I knew it! I knew you had weird foreign gestures- wait-" Kyoko froze as the totality of his offer sank in. "Parents?" she squeaked.

He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, giving her a space of silence before speaking.

"Only when you're ready," he said quietly. "But when you are, I'm ready to visit home with you." Kyoko looked up at him, her eyes searching the depths of his. She could feel the weight of his promise sink into her and let the full force of his revelations about the deep pain and sadness he'd left back in America wash over her. She wanted to treat his offer with the respect it deserved.

"Kuon," she said, gripping his hand in both of hers. "Don't force yourself. I know what… family… can be like."

He smiled at her, pulling her in for a hug with his free hand.

"You know part of my family already anyways," he said mysteriously. "I want to do this with you. I need to do this with you."

"Then let's do it now," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt as she nuzzled into him.

"Mmmm?" he said, rubbing her back.

"Let's do this now," she repeated. He looked down at her, his face openly curious.

"Fly? Now?"

"No," she said, laughing. "Call your mom and dad."

Kuon blinked at her.

"Now?"

"You're repeating yourself," she said. She pulled her phone from her purse and held it out to him. He didn't move. She shook it at him, but he just looked at it.

"Service is probably bad here," he said.

"Kuon, one thing I have learned is that once you come to a decision, you need to make yourself a dead-end road. No return. Especially if it's a decision you don't truly want to make, but need to. When I went to meet my mom…" she paused, not wanting to make this about her. "I knew what I should do, and I made it so I had to." She stepped forward to hug him, feeling his heart beat against her cheek. "If you know that we need to do this, then… let's make it so we have to. Otherwise we will spend the next six years just daydreaming about it."

Kuon sat still, then let out a long, slow breath that ruffled the hair on top of her head. He bent and kissed her hair, pulling the phone out of her hand and typing in a foreign number. As the phone line connected and began ringing, he bent low and whispered in her ear, "I love you. Thank you."

He switched the phone to speaker as a woman's voice came across the line.

"Hello?"

Kyoko didn't speak, waiting for Kuon to take the initiative. He didn't say anything, just stared at the phone with wide, green eyes.

"Hello?" the woman tried again, in English this time.

They could hear a man in the background suggesting it was telemarketers. "Computers always pause before they connect you to the sales pitch," the voice said. Kyoko's ears perked up, certain she recognized it.

The woman spoke over him. "It's from Japan, dear, it could be him. I'm not hanging up unless they do. Kuon? Kuon, darling, it's mom. Hello?"

She felt him shudder against her and squeezed him tightly, moving to take the phone from his hand. She'd pushed him too hard. The dead end road was a difficult one to walk; maybe he wasn't ready. The phone's movement beneath his fingers seemed to awaken him suddenly.

"Mom," he gasped.

The woman screamed, her cry suddenly far away as a thunk resounded through the speaker. "Kuon!" her voice was loud again. "Honey, I dropped the phone- Kuon! Dear, it's Kuon-"

"Mom," Kuon said again, his voice choked.

"Oh, my baby," she cooed, her voice muffled now. A man's voice shouted in the background.

"Kuon? Kuon! It's dad- where are you? Are you alright? How are you eating? Do you need something? I can send money-"

"Dad," Kuon said, his voice cracking with a short laugh. Kyoko buried her face in his chest, trying not to cry.

"Yes, love, we can come- what do you need? Oh, dear, it's Kuon-" his mom's sentence was cut short as she started crying harshly, and Kuon's dad took the phone.

"Julie, dear, sit. No, no, I'll keep him on speaker. Yes, I'll stay here. Sit, love." Kyoko looked up at Kuon with a flash as she finally placed the voice.

"Hizuri-san!" she said in shock. Kuon bit his lip as he tried to smile at her, but she could see the tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. She reached up and smoothed them away, her hand resting on his face in gentle reassurance.

"Kuon?" Hizuri Kuu's voice called over the speaker. "Who is that with you?"

"It's Kyoko, dad," Kuon managed.

"Kyok- son! I mean, my other son! Wait- you called-" Kuu paused. Kyoko could almost hear the gears of his mind turning. "Together."

"Yes, dad," Kuon said. "Together."

Kuu whooped, a series of bangs erupting on the other end of the phone. "Dear! Our sons!" Julie was cry-laughing now, the sound a garbled mix of choked-off joy.

"I want to come home," Kuon said into the chaos. "With her."

A sudden hush fell across the line as neither of his parents responded immediately.

"Home…" Julie whispered, breaking the silence.

"Kuon," Kuu interrupted, his voice firm. "Are you certain?"

Kuon nodded, then added a brief murmur of assent as he hugged Kyoko tightly. His free hand rose to press her smaller hand tightly against his face, resting his cheek in her palm.

"As yourself?" Julie's voice was meek, the hope tingeing it almost painful to hear.

"For you, and for Kyoko," Kuon said. "But… I can't stay."

A longer pause ensued. Kyoko could feel Kuon's tension rising as his back slowly straightened, releasing her hand from his caresses. She ran her hands slowly up and down his back, trying to ease him silently.

"On your own power," his dad's voice filled the clearing. "That's the promise you gave us." Julie started to say something, but Kuu gently shushed her. "I want you to come home as you. For you. For good."

"Kuu-" Julie interjected again, but this time Kuon interrupted.

"I want her to meet you both," he said firmly, his hands tense around Kyoko's shoulders. "But my career-I'm not ready for-"

"England," his mother said, her voice bright with inspiration. "Midway! Oh, dear, let's do England!"

Kuu's reply was too hushed for them to discern, but Julie's built on it. "He's not ready for that yet, but we can- oh stop. If you're going to make this too difficult for him, then just stay here!" Her voice became louder as she apparently cradled the phone to her face, monopolizing the conversation. "Kuon, love, I have an idea. Let's meet in England. It's neutral ground- you won't risk any unpleasant meetings- you won't be breaking any of your commitments to yourself," she said something muffled to Kuu, her voice slightly angry, before continuing. "And I can finally meet the girl who stole the hearts of both my favorite men!" Her voice rose in a joyful trill at the end, making Kyoko blush furiously. She reburied her face in Kuon's chest.

"England," Kuon said thoughtfully, his finger pressing on Kyoko's chin to gently force her to look up at him, his eyebrows raised in question.

"England," she repeated with a smile, nodding at him.

"Oooh, England!" Julie crowed triumphantly.

"Crumpets!" Hizuri Kuu hollered from the background.


	81. Undead Plans

Julie's cry of delight still echoed in their brains when the pair arrived at Jelly Wood's trailer in Tokyo that afternoon. Their ride home had flown by; Kyoko's rapture over finding out Kuon was indeed _her_ Kuon twice-over - fairy prince and the original Hizuri son she'd imitated - had ricocheted joyfully around the car's interior for the duration. She'd been too busy fantasizing about the power of fairy magic bringing them together over and over again to even bother to ask realistic questions like how on earth they would clear their schedules for the upcoming trip. Kuon didn't mind at all, grateful for the respite from an expected interrogation about his reaction to the music video shoot. He kept catching her hand mid-exuberant swing, drawing it tenderly to his lips for a soft kiss before setting her limb free to wave in ecstasy once more. Her childlike joy was contagious and he felt himself being swept up in believing perhaps every meeting was ordained by magic.

To him, though, how she came to be by his side didn't matter nearly as much as working out the details on how to keep her there. Forever. Kuon reached for the Muse's door, ready to escort the still-rhapsodizing Kyoko inside when it slammed open in his face with a bang. A whoosh of white fog leaked out of the trailer, creeping down the steps to swirl densely around their feet. The parking garage lights flickered, more fog pouring ominously out of every visible light fixture and water drainage.

"Kuon-" Kyoko gasped, clinging to his sleeve as a dark figure emerged onto the top step of Miss Wood's trailer. He firmed his stance, holding his arm out to protectively shield Kyoko from the spectre. His body tensed as he watched the apparition on the stairs for any sudden movements, ready to counter. He could feel her grip loosen on his arm and glanced at her. She was standing calmly, her head cocked in question as she seemed to analyze the dark figure. "No malice…" she whispered, looking intently at the shadow. "...President?"

Kuon's eyes snapped away from her to the figure on the steps. A booming cackle echoed forth; the dark cape swirled wide; Lory Takarada did a one-two step down the short staircase to prance over to their side, dressed to the hilt as an undead vampire lord. "Kyoko," he said, his normally suave voice distorted slightly by long, white fangs pressing against his lower lip. "How vunderful!" Lory's eyes gleamed a dark ruby red in the flickering lights as he stepped closer still, tracing his finger over her short blonde hair. "I've been expecting you." A mischievous glint made his eyes sparkle as he slanted his head to look at Kuon. "You too," he said, pausing dramatically. "I vant to…"

"Dye your hair, Darling, dye your hair!" Miss Woods called from the trailer. "Stop messing with them where he could be seen, dearest."

Lory smirked, swirling his cape around the pair as he ushered them inside. "I have covered them vith my darkness, Ten," he proclaimed. "Protecting their love from the light of day!" He cackled again, coughing slightly this time. Lory shook his head and spat out the fake teeth, frowning at them in his hand. He tossed them over his shoulder into the mist. Ruto popped out at the last moment to catch them on a pillow before disappearing back into the mist. "Enough darkness," Lory said, clapping. Rose-colored light filled the trailer. Lory's skin glistened and shone under the light as he threw he cloak down onto the couch with a dramatic wrist flick. A set of wine glasses with roses entwined around the stem emerged from the side panel of the trailer, already filled. Lory took one and sipped, humming appreciatively. He gestured for Kuon to take one, then handed Kyoko one with a different color rose. "Juice," he said, winking.

Lory settled into a plush black sofa, his arms stretched languidly across the scroll-worked back as he watched Miss Woods dive into her prep work on Kuon. Kuon said nothing, merely eyeing Lory's unusually sparkly skin. He was tempted to ask as Lory had never assumed such a dark character previously, but couldn't force himself to risk an outpouring of enthusiastic praise for some heretofore unknown LoveMon aspect of vampiric culture.

"It was my suggestion," Jelly said, smiling at Kuon's puzzled expression in the mirror. "He was in such a tizzy of moe when his old friend called to tell him his son was dating his true love that I had to tone him down somehow before he exploded. Undead seemed both appropriately macabre and delightful looking!" She ended with a squeal as she focused on Lory in the mirror, obviously trying to hold herself back from jumping on him.

"Son?" Kyoko squeaked, almost choking on her juice.

"True love?" Kuon gasped, jerking his head around and earning a gentle whack of reprimand from Jelly.

"Exactly! You see the problem— total trigger words for Darling; isn't that right?" She smiled at Lory flirtatiously.

Lory smirked in reply, rising slowly to glide over to Kyoko's side. "Kuu's dear son," he purred. Kyoko's eyes widened, darting to Miss Woods. Had they revealed the full truth to her? "Dating Tsuruga Ren." Kyoko collapsed slightly, panting with relief. Jelly's ears visibly perked up.

"Kuu's son?" she said, watching Kyoko with glimmering eyes in the mirror. "Hizuri-san?"

"I- yes," Kyoko stammered. "He asked me to play his son as training, only a simple exercise."

"And he officially informally adopted her afterwards!" Lory said, throwing his arms wide. "Isn't it glorious, Ten?"

Miss Woods smiled genuinely at Kyoko. "I'm not surprised. So that's why you've asked me to prepare disguises for them as well. I couldn't quite grasp their connection to _Tragic Marker_ or either of you two." Lory winked at Kyoko conspiratorially. Kyoko's mind was spinning, trying to keep up with each new utterance from Jelly Woods. "But preparing the costumes for the parents of Cain and Setsuka was exactly the type of challenge the Muse lives for!"

Kuon's eyes met Kyoko's in a flash.

"Cain and Setsu?" Their voices rose in surprised outburst together.

"But-"

"President, I-"

Lory patted the air with his hands as more fog rose into the room. Miss Woods brushed away creeping tendrils from her face as she worked, pulling out dark brown contacts and black hair dye.

"Kuu told me all. It's absolutely perfect," Lory said, the glimmer in his eyes matching the shine on his skin. "I've entered _Tragic Marker_ in the London BFI Film Festival and the judges were ecstatic. Even more so when they heard the villain would be available for interviews and photo-ops." He paused, his pose gaining greater drama as he slowly looked up toward the ceiling, raising his arm as if beckoning something forth.

"Cain Heel," he said, his voice low. He turned to Kuon, extending his hand in summoning. He stood still, his manner grave before suddenly cracking into a smile. "I wouldn't think you'd need your good luck charm anymore, though. But now she's become an intrinsic part of your character." Neither missed the glee flashing in his undead eyes as he walked to Miss Wood's side and pulled Setsu's wig out of a jet black box. He held it up in front of Kyoko and visibly started to squee out moe.

"Darling," Miss Woods said lovingly. "The plan."

"Yes, yes," Lory shook himself slightly, replacing the wig and adjusting his costume. "We do a formal release and reveal upon your return. The extra exposure from the BFI is exactly what _Tragic Marker_ needs to become a once-in-a-generation smash." He turned to Kuon, whose hair was already swathed in dark dye. "You could become anyone you wanted to after this, my boy." He patted Kuon's shoulder, his eyes kind. "Reveal Cain Heel as Tsuruga Ren and nothing is beyond imagination and acceptance."

Lory stretched, then walked over to swirl his cape around his shoulders again. He made to leave, but apparently couldn't resist a parting shot of drama. "Perhaps we shall be hosting a funeral upon your return."

Kyoko gasped, turning to Lory with shock on her face. "President! Don't-"

"For a stage name, dearest," Lory said, covering his mouth with his cape as he backed out of the trailer, chuckling.

Kuon sighed, reaching his hand out backwards to clasp Kyoko's. "Miss Woods," he said earnestly. "Please don't ever recommend a costume as dramatic as a vampire ever again."

"Oooh," Miss Woods pouted. "But darling is so delicious as an undead immortal!"


	82. Final Takes

Kyoko fidgeted in her position high over the set. It was her last shoot as Momiji - the timing coincided perfectly with the trip, more proof of fairy godmothers. Or fairy godpresidents. President Takarada had pulled several strings with his cadre of producers to shift hers and Tsuruga's schedule back by two weeks. Ren would still be busy late into the night every day before they left as Yashiro had rescheduled as many projects as possible before the trip to avoid tripping some production deadlines. Tonight he was only free after ten, and only then if everything went perfectly at his third commercial shoot in a row. Her schedule was much simpler, as befitted someone yet to debut. Only Bo required an actual substitute— easy enough to find for a masked chicken. Her heart ached a little at the thought of someone else handling her eggs.

She rubbed her thumb along the hilt of her sword. Four days from now and she'd be meeting his mother. Her dead-end plan had worked a little too well, perhaps. Was she ready to meet his mother? Was he ready? Mothers. Kyoko had so very little experience. Julie has seemed nice enough on the phone, and she was married to Hizuri-san— but she'd also willingly not contacted her only child for years now. Kyoko knew exactly what type of mother could accept such separation.

The idea of traveling as the Heels made slipping fully into character a tempting relief from the stress of meeting Kuon's mother. There was no script for it, but surely the Heels had a dysfunctional family dynamic. They could let it all pass over as a storm cloud of Cain and Setsu reactions. Hizuri-san was already used to interacting with her inside of a role; this would merely be a gender swap from the last time he'd adopted her. Her heart clenched at the thought of not seeing him as herself. She'd practiced saying "daddy" for months now until the word rolled easily off Kyoko's own tongue, with or without the Kuon role to hide behind. Kyoko's mind wandered. How long had it been since Kuon had called him "daddy" to his face? Maybe they should practice together.

Director Morizumi called "Action!" and Kyoko snapped alert, her body triggered into full-blown tension. All thoughts of Hizuris vanished as Momiji slowly let out her breath, her twin swords held out to her sides with uncharacteristic slackness. Down below, Shizuma and Chidori wound their way on horseback through the valley. She cried out with a single call in the sharp, mocking tone of a raven. He pulled up his horse, cocking his head to listen.

Her swords flashed, their blades whirring as she spun them around with a flick of her wrists. She drew them up straight in front of her face, then slammed them down into the rock with a grunt, sheathing the blades in the mountainside itself. The grating of metal against rock resounded down into the valley.

Below, Shizuma's hands convulsed around the reins. He drew in a shuddering breath and spurred his horse forward in a burst of speed, Chidori following after.

Momiji waited until they were lost in the twists of the mountain route before turning away. The fog enveloped her like a slow embrace until all that could be seen was her formless shadow. A lone black headband strip whipped out of the fog, carried by the heedless wind until it snared around the twin sword hilts.

Momiji was gone.

The director wrapped the shoot with a yell of "Cut" and a proud smile as the crew exploded in applause, surrounding Kyoko with eager praise and congratulations. Akami-san, the actress who played Chidori, emerged and bowed to Kyoko before clasping her hand joyfully. "Come and celebrate with us tonight, Kyoko-chan," she said. "We want to thank you for your hard work!"

Still two hours before Kuon could possibly be done. Kyoko smiled shyly and agreed. Time with her coworkers would be a welcome distraction from the flow of her own thoughts.

The group assembled chaotically outside the studio, locations and menus bantered around while accumulating taxis for transportation. She found herself plopped in a taxi next to Koga-san heading to the late-night Italian diner Fungo. "Sempai," she greeted him. "Thank you for all your help."

Koga merely nodded, scratching at a smudge on the door handle.

"I know you and Akami-san will wrap up even better than we started!" Kyoko said with a fierce bow at the waist, just missing whacking her forehead on the back of the passenger seat. She had come to truly respect Koga. His habit of brutally calling her out and challenging her acting reminded her of Tsuruga-san when they first met. It was uncomfortable- but she grew stronger and knew _Lotus_ would be a better movie because of his efforts.

Koga flicked unseen dirt particles from his fingertips, brushing them off on his pants leg.

"Thank you." His gaze remained fixated on his hand.

The taxi fell silent except for Kyoko's occasional fidgets. She tried again at conversation. "No phone tonight, sempai?" she offered, laughing softly. Koga looked over at her sharply.

"What do you mean?"

"You usually have your phone out when we are together," she said meekly. "I've gotten used to it."

Koga's hand twitched. "Nothing to search."

"Oh, you were doing research! That makes sense. It was difficult for me to fall into full character at first too; their world is so different from ours. I have Uesugi-sama to thank for helping me overcome my failings. If I hadn't had him…" she trailed off, gesturing at Koga. "I'm impressed how much you could learn from Google-sensei."

Koga just watched her silently before turning away to look out the window.

"Will Tsuruga-san join us?" he asked.

Kyoko smiled, glad to see Kuon's efforts at friendship were paying off. "Eventually," she said. "He won't wrap up work until late."

Koga nodded, then lapsed back into silence for the remainder of the ride. Kyoko was thankful when they finally pulled up at Fungo, slipping quickly out of the strangely oppressive cab environment to join the raucous crowd of actors inside.

An hour or so after her first bite of delicious bruschetta, Ren arrived. Cheers of "Rusu!" exploded across the room as actors and actresses raised their glasses in toast. Kyoko beamed at him as he accepted a full glass from Akami-san and raised it in return, downing the contents. The group exploded in joy at his gesture, with more rounds for all passed out. Kyoko gracefully turned down each offer, pleading her age while sipping on fruit juice.

She watched him circle the room, a genuine smile gracing his face as he commended each group for their teamwork and effort. He left a residual glow of louder conversations, broader smiles, and reddened female cheeks. Only one person seemed unaffected by his praise. Koga nodded brusquely before throwing back the shot he held and immediately ordering another. His eyes followed Ren after he left before glancing over and catching Kyoko's stare. Flustered at being caught, she ducked her head in apology for watching him.

Ren's arm brushed hers.

"Good work, Mogami-san," he said quietly, his deep voice thrilling her inside. She tried not to blush, but couldn't help it when she glanced up to see his brown eyes studying her joyfully.

"Thank you, Tsuruga-san," she replied, glancing around at the other actors. "It was a group effort."

Ren hummed under his breath, his hand dropping to rest next to hers on the table. His pinky finger lightly traced her skin. How could such small contact feel so intimate? "Ren," she whispered. "We haven't told anyone."

"Told anyone what?" a man asked from behind them. Kyoko jumped away from Ren in shock, turning to find Koga gripping another full highball glass. He was looking at Ren's hand where it still rested on the table, his eyes dark.

Kyoko silently begged Ren for help. He smiled, turning to lean nonchalantly against the table. "Information about her next job," he said calmly. "We currently share a manager, so I have the privilege of getting some advance tidbits on her career."

Koga smiled without shifting his eyes from their focus on Ren's hands. "Oh. And here I thought you two were dating."

Her heart leapt into her mouth as she looked up at Ren in alarm.

"But it would be strange to see so senior an actor involved with someone still a mere… what is your division called again, Mogami-san?" Koga asked, taking a sip of his drink as he finally made eye contact with her. His eyes were cold, betraying any indication of actual interest his words suggested.

"L-LoveMe," she said, blushing pink at the title. Koga barked a laugh, raising his glass in a toast to Ren.

"I can only imagine," he said with a slight sneer. "How enjoyable you find that title, Tsuruga-san."

Tsuruga nodded. "It is certainly an interesting one," he said. "Though I confess it typically makes me think more of our beloved President Takarada, who created the position and its title." He paused, waiting a beat before continuing. "And you, Koga-san?"

"Me?"

"Anyone in your life?" Tsuruga's eyes glinted. "Surely someone ranked as number two in Japan would have the comfort of a companion." Kyoko could hear Koga's teeth grinding from where she stood. She started to speak, wanting to smooth over the sudden aggression she felt in the air. Her grudges were popping out everywhere, thrilled by the influx of darkness. _It's been too long,_ they sang in her subconscious. _Too long since we've tasted this anger! Oooooh, how delicious!_

"No." Koga replied firmly. "No one." He threw back his cocktail and reached between her and Ren to slide the glass onto the table, wiping his mouth with his hand. "Enjoy the party, Mogami-san. I think it's time for me to leave."

Ren bowed his head ever so slightly as Koga turned to leave. Kyoko could feel tension radiating from his side. She desperately wanted to touch him, but was afraid of the consequences if she did anything that showed off their relationship right now. As her senior in this arena she wanted him to lead in how and when they revealed all. She was fine with waiting. In fact, she preferred waiting. As long as possible.

Ren's eyes met hers and he blinked, his tension dissipating immediately. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have let him provoke me. But his assessment of you-" he stopped, turning to the room.

"Everyone, a toast!" Ren raised his glass to the room as the group of actors quieted. Koga paused, glancing back over his shoulder before continuing out the door. "To Mogami Kyoko's creation of a Momiji so thrilling she captivated Rusu completely!"

The group cheered and threw back their glasses. Akami-san raised her own voice over the crowd. "She captivated Chidori too, but unlike Rusu they refused to alter the script for me!" Rowdy laughs filled the air as actor after actor raised their glass, proclaiming their character enslaved to Momiji. Ren stood beaming next to Kyoko, carefully not touching her, but his presence still filled her senses. She bashfully raised her own glass, then bowed as the reality that something beautiful had happened on set for all of them because of Momiji sank in.

Akami called for a group picture, nabbing the bartender and herding the whole cast into a huddle. Ren used the opportunity to lean in close to Kyoko, whispering in her ear. "My place next, Momiji." Kyoko turned to look at him in surprise just as the bartender snapped the first photo. She turned back, certain her face was pink and aching to cool her hot cheeks with her hands. _Click_ , a second photo. Kyoko nodded imperceptibly in reply. His hand gently pressed into the small of her back as the bartender tapped for a third and final take.


	83. Mise En Place

The pen hovered over the page. Blank lines haunted him like a soulless stare. It needed filled, but he had nothing to pour out onto it. He let the pen tip dribble over the corner of the paper, twisted scribbly meanderings etching a reflection of his thoughts.

Twisted and scribbly. He scoffed, scrawling harsh black lines over the scribbles until the paper ripped beneath the tip. He didn't stop, ripping the hole wider as he etched marks on the counter-top. In a rush of anger he chucked the pen and pad across the counter, shoving his chair back with a scrape and stalking across the room to the window.

He tried to stare out at the scenery, but his eyes fixated on the smudged glass instead, just the right height for a hand print. His hand fit perfectly over top the smudge, pressing softly against the cool glass. He grimaced suddenly, pounding against the window with a tightly balled fist.

"There is no song," he whispered to himself, resting his forehead against the window.

Time passed slowly as Sho watched the glass fog and clear beneath his breath. The afternoon sun became bright and warm on his cheek. His joints complained of the long wait as he pushed upright, turning to leave. He shouldn't come back. That look of disgust- Sho shook his head, trying to clear the memories of the expressions he'd seen. His fault. He'd pushed the boundaries. He'd forced the question when there hadn't even been a question to begin with.

Because like Koga said, he was straight. He had always liked women. This was some aberration- a curse? Sho's mind latched onto the idea. One of his rivals cursing him. Kyoko? She'd take great pleasure in making him gay, he was sure of it. Koga was probably in on it. He'd been the first to…touch.

Sho bit his lip as he latched the door behind himself. He'd been the first, but today was not on him. It was on the absolutely straight man forcing his friend to experiment with him. Sho looked at himself in the reflection of the elevator doors. His eyes made the entire thought process ridiculous.

He had wanted it.

He still wanted him.

"Straight," Sho laughed mockingly. "What the f*** does that even mean?" The doors slid open and Sho stepped inside, his expression turned inward as the doors silently closed behind him.

He wandered, watching faces. Looking for clues.

Shoko called; he turned his phone off. Thirty seconds later he turned his phone back on, anxiously checking messages to make sure he hadn't called.

Shoko called again; he declined and blocked her number.

He got noodles at a street cafe and sat, stirring them without eating as he watched an elderly couple bicker over the amount of hot sauce appropriate to this stall's style of noodles. The lady won and triumphantly poured globs of spice over the noodles. The man's face grimaced, but his eyes were kind and lively as he gestured at her to stop.

Sho stood up, leaving his full bowl sitting on the table as he walked away.

Several hours later, he emerged from the grocery store staggering under the weight of plastic bags laden with ingredients. He had no idea what he'd bought, but he was going to go back to Koga's and get his shit in order. _Mise en place_.

The door opened just in time for Sho to drop a bag of bell peppers, sending them rolling down the hallway of the eleventh floor. Koga stood silently, his jacket and shoes on and keys in hand as he watched the red vegetables scatter. He bent and picked one up, turning without a word to walk back into the apartment. Sho was frozen in place, watching the door gently close.

Koga's foot shot out and propped open the door just before it shut.

"Are you coming?" his voice called from inside.

The words jolted him awake and Sho hefted his bags, kicking an errant pepper in front of him as he shoved the door open with his hip, pushing inside the apartment after Koga.

Throwing the pepper and keys onto the counter, Koga shrugged off his jacket and shoes and padded slipper-footed into the living room. Sho shifted the groceries, flexing his muscles for confidence. Remember who you are, he told himself as he shuffled into the kitchen to dump the mountain of groceries on the floor. Fuwa Sho.

Sho rolled up his sleeves, eyeing the pile of bags. Time to get his shit in order. He started randomly emptying the contents onto Koga's counter, purposefully dumping the first bag directly on top of the notepad he'd discarded earlier. Jars of sauce and cans of broth clanged against each other as they rolled out haphazardly. Sho cursed, throwing his arm out to catch a falling…light soy sauce? He looked at it curiously. Different from regular soy sauce? A jar of plum sauce crashed onto the floor, splattering its contents over the cabinet door. He heard a quick footfall as Koga ran into the kitchen.

"Are you—" Koga stopped, his eyes widening as he took in the mess. "You haven't even started cooking yet, and the kitchen looks ready to burn down."

Sho cringed a smile, hefting the soy sauce. "I got… ingredients…"

Koga eyed him suspiciously. "For what?"

Kicking a bag, Sho saw shrimp and flour slide out. "Ah - tempera! For tempera."

Koga's eyes widened.

"You think I'm going to let you fry in my house?!" His words exploded from him as he stalked to Sho's side, shoving the pile of jars a safe distance from the edge.

"I'm hoping you'll let me get my shit together at your house," Sho mumbled under his breath, setting the soy sauce down.

Koga rolled his eyes. " _Mise en place_." He poked Sho in the side of his ribs. "Move."

"I'm helping."

With a huff of disapproval, Koga fished for the aprons and threw the frilly one at Sho. "You'll watch. Start emptying those bags, on the counter." Sho snatched up the closest one and started to turn it upside-down, freezing mid-motion at Koga's yelp. "One at a time! One thing at a time."

Setting the items he'd randomly grabbed at the store on the counter with over-exaggerated care, Sho watched Koga. Watched that one curl fall forward over his eyebrow. Watched his fingers swipe it to the side and try to shove it behind his ear only to have it fall forward again. The muscles in his forearm twist, his tendons standing out sharply as he raised the heavy frying pan to the stovetop. Sho set an onion down on top of another onion, the round vegetable rolling off and thumping into the sink. Koga glanced at him, his face set in sarcastic question.

"Almost done," Sho said, hurrying to finish. He'd completely covered the counters with packaged food and fresh vegetables. Koga turned to survey his progress and gasped, his mouth gaping open at the collection on his counters.

"Who are you feeding?" he said, aghast.

"Us." Sho shrugged. "It was on sale?"

Koga just blinked, then walked over and started shoving food back into bags.

"Hey! I worked hard on that!"

"Where will we cook, Sho?" Koga scowled at him. He paused in his swipes, his hand encircling a pile of strawberry pudding. He looked at the singer, then pushed it to the side against the backsplash as he cleared away the vast majority of the other groceries. "Tempera. Eggs, water, flour, shrimp, fresh veg."

Sho nodded, pretending to take mental notes when he really just wanted to crack open a pudding. Koga sighed. He grabbed up a container, ripped the top off, shoved a spoon inside and thrust it at Sho. "Eat."

Sho noshed happily, moving to stand behind Koga and peer over his shoulder as he began chopping carrots. He leaned forward, bracing his arm against Koga's shoulder as he gestured with his spoon. "How do you make them so square?" Koga batted his hand away so he moved to lean against the counter next to him, scooping out more pudding as he watched Koga evenly slice the carrots into sticks.

Koga stole another glance at him. He seemed to make a decision, stepping back and wiping his hands on his apron. Wordlessly he pointed at the space he'd just occupied. Sho sat his pudding and spoon down to stand in front as Koga gestured at the knife and carrot. "Hold them the way I did; fingers back and straight. No, straight down. Sho-" Koga huffed as Sho tried but didn't make his fingers bend right. Koga's hand pressed down over his, pushing his fingers into position. His skin was soft. He could feel small, familiar-feeling calluses on the pads of his fingers.

"Do you play guitar?" Sho blurted, the carrot escaping from under his grip. Koga froze, his hand still laying on top of Sho's.

"Not as much anymore," he said quietly, moving his hand away. Sho's hand felt cold. He purposefully switched his knife grip before hacking at the carrot.

"Sho!" Koga shouted, grabbing Sho's wrist. "Are you listening at all?" Sho just smiled and squared himself off with the counter, pulling his hand away to try and cut again.

Koga gripped Sho's wrist more tightly. "Stop messing. You'll cut yourself." He tugged at Sho's arm. "Put the knife down." Sho pulled his arm out with a jerk, moving to start once more when Koga gripped his wrist, twisting and pulling Sho's arm down and out as he shoved against his hip. Sho spun to land back against the counter, the knife trapped behind him. Koga's eyes were angry as he held Sho immobilized. "Do not get stupid," he said coldly.

Sho couldn't hear him. Koga's charcoal-gray eyes were too close. Koga's leg braced up against him, pressing into him; his own body trapped beneath the actor's weight. His lips felt dry and he licked them. Koga shoved back, freeing Sho. He pulled the knife from Sho's hand easily, furiously chopping the vegetables.

Sho tried to step in and help but Koga brushed him aside. "If you're going to act like a child, you have no place here. Go eat your pudding."

Starting to mock him, Sho scooped up his pudding. He poked at it. He didn't really want it anymore. Koga's head was bent as he prepped, his neck bare below his curls. Sho tossed his pudding in the trash.

He walked over to stand next to Koga, leaning back against the counter and letting himself just watch. The other man cooked with ease, his face calm and closed as he whisked the batter. Sho reached over, closing his hand gently over Koga's and forcing him to stop.

"This I can do," he said softly. Koga's hand slid from beneath his, reaching out to turn on the burner under the oil. Sho stirred the tempera idly, his focus still on the way the man next to him moved. His shoulders seemed so broad; maybe the apron's lines accentuated them. Sho glanced down at his frilly bows and laughed, drawing Koga's gaze. He shrugged, holding out the bowl and pointing to his giant bow. Koga smiled and for a brief moment Sho glimpsed the dent in his jaw he'd caressed this morning. He felt his face rush with heat and turned away suddenly, pulling all the bowls toward him, trying to find anything to do to not look at Koga.

"Is it hot?" Koga said, making Sho jump.

"What? Is what? No— are you? I mean, you are— no, what?"

Koga raised his eyebrow at him. "Oil. The thermometer is in front of you."

Sho shoved the thermometer in the oil and nodded at the readout. "Hot."

Koga stood calmly next to Sho as he began dipping the sliced meat and vegetables into their batter and dropping them in the oil to bubble. Sho could feel his body heat. There was about six inches between their hands as they rested on the counter. Inches. "Hot," he muttered, his fingers flexing with his desire to feel Koga's warm skin again.

"Needs to be," Koga said simply. "Too cold and it'll get soggy." Sho stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Tempera. Soggy. Gross." Koga spoke slowly as he examined Sho for understanding.

Too many words. Not enough words. Damn it, Sho just wanted Koga's mouth to keep moving so he could watch it. He didn't care what he was saying. The sizzling oil in the background merged with the white noise in his mind as Sho raised his hand slowly and touched the corner of Koga's mouth. Koga twitched, jerking back.

Sho blinked in surprise. "Ah, you had— flour." He pulled off his apron and threw it on the counter to go sit on the couch.

"Done being useful?" Koga called from the kitchen after a moment passed.

Sho buried his head in his hand, reaching for the tv remote blindly. He wanted to run back in the kitchen and be the one to shove _him_ against the counter. He wanted to wrap his hands around his jaw and hold him still, no speaking, no leaving. Sho flipped on the tv. He could feel his heart beating erratically. He needed to calm down or he'd do something stupid. He grabbed a blanket from off the back of the couch and slumped down sideways to lay across the cushions, burrowing down into the folds.

He could smell the tempera when Koga emerged, but he didn't move. He wasn't actually hungry. He'd just wanted to get his shit in order, but being around Koga only ever seemed to make it all worse. He closed his eyes, wanting to avoid a scolding for forcing Koga to cook. The plate clinked as Koga sat it down on the table. He heard a sigh, and the rustle of fabric as Koga shuffled off his apron and tossed it across the room. His head dipped and bobbed back up as the cushions moved beneath Koga's weight. A pause; a crunch of tempera eaten. Another pause. Sho barely managed to keep his eyes shut against the shock of Koga's hands gently lifting his head. His breathing stilled. Koga shifted and laid his head down on his lap, his fingertip running along the line of his haircut once before reaching forward to grab another piece of tempera and the remote.

His heart was going to give him away. No one could possibly be sleeping with their heart hammering in their chest like that. His mind was reeling, ricocheting off the sensations of warmth and gentleness and the hard muscles of Koga's leg. He could feel his own body growing warmer, responding instinctively to the other man's closeness. Sho wanted to move desperately, to shift his weight, to open his eyes, to wrap his arms around the actor's waist and force him to acknowledge him.

He lay perfectly still.

Last time he'd moved, it had all snapped.

The smell of the tempera slowly faded as it grew cold. Koga switched off the light at some point, making it easier for Sho to keep his eyes closed. He was nowhere near drowsy though, his mind afire with every shift, every breath taken by the man above him. The tv kept droning on. Eventually Koga's breathing slowed; a twitch of sleep jerked his leg. Sho risked opening his eyes and rolling slightly to glance up.

Koga's head rested against the back of the couch, one arm draped over the edge and the other resting on the armrest. His eyes were closed, his mouth open just slightly in the slackness of sleep. That single curl rested over his left eye again. Sho reached up one shaky hand and brushed it to the side, feeling the soft skin near his temple. He gulped, trying to swallow down his own desire. He could feel his body still awash with heat, demanding release from the torture of the day. He ached with a deeply physical need to carve his own memories on this man. Sho sat up, his hand resting between Koga's legs as he studied his face. He had a choice. Wake him up, kiss him hard and rough and show him in one moment all the ways he was messing with Sho's mind, demanding answers and commitments- or go take a shower and get rid of this need by himself.

He leaned in close, until he could feel the warmth from Koga's skin on his own.

He couldn't.

Not today. Not after this morning. Sho stood up slowly, his pants uncomfortably tight, and draped his blanket over Koga's lap. Time for a shower.

He hesitated in the door of the bathroom, his hands gripping the doorframe. He looked back over his shoulder. Koga's tousled hair lay soft and wild on the back of the couch, one long arm laying out like an invitation. His hands clenched against the smooth wood.

Sho stepped inside and softly shut the door, only flicking on the light once it was completely closed.

The mirror spanned the length of the room. He couldn't escape the painfully obvious glimpse of his own face. The mad fascination with another man. Sho watched his own expression shift as he studied himself, his mind replaying each smile and sneer he'd seen flicker across the actor's features.

"Not my fault." His teeth gritted, he banged his fist on the counter, trying to clear his mind of the obsessive thoughts. "His." If Koga had never touched him- Sho ran his fingertips down his chest, his memory holding captive the exact path the slender fingers had taken. It was burnt into him like a brand.

Today was too much. He turned on the water, ripping his shirt off and throwing it against the wall. He unbuckled his pants but stilled, his hands frozen as he suddenly felt unable to face the actual proof of how deeply it all affected him. He could feel it, pressing hard and tight against its constraints ever since Koga's finger had traced its way down his scalp. Sho moaned, wrapping his arms around himself.

What if he hadn't turned from Koga in the kitchen. Sho raised his hand to his own mouth, desperate to pretend. What would he have done? He pressed his thumb against the corner of his mouth, slowly drawing it across his bottom lip, feeling the caress of wetness slick against his skin. "Unh," Sho moaned softly. To feel Koga like that…

He slid his pants down, freeing himself completely. His skin felt hot and tight. No woman had ever made him burn with need like this. Not even Shoko— and he had thrilled at claiming her, breaking an entire list of taboos as she mounted him. But here tonight, alone, without anyone's hands gripping his skin, he was already achingly stiff at the mere memory of touch.

He stepped into the warm water and let it run over his bare skin. Needed higher pressure. He wanted something to peel back his skin and cleanse him - no, not cleanse, cure. Sho breathed deep, shoving his head under the cascading water. It dripped off his fringe and over his face, running in rivulets down his chest. Just like Koga's hands.

"Fuck," he breathed. He wrapped his hand around himself, his chest immediately seizing in reaction to the touch. He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes as water washed over his upturned face. He let his hand start to move, his body already shaking with need for release.

What if he had done everything he wanted? Drew his finger along Koga's lip, pressing down to force his mouth open. Leaned forward and replaced his finger with his tongue, making it unavoidably clear to Koga just how damn un-straight he was.

"Sho…" Koga's voice moaned in his mind, his hands rising to smooth up Sho's back, tangling in the bow of his apron. Sho pulled back and Koga was wearing nothing but his own apron, the string tied tight around his waist, the slender strap accentuating the lean lines of his shoulder muscles. Sho groaned, his hands tracing over bare skin compulsively as he forced Koga back into the counter. He could feel the other man's hardness rising beneath him, the sudden proof that he wasn't alone in this, that his presence was just as intoxicating for the other rushing over him like a waterfall.

Sho ripped off his own shirt, pulling it free from beneath the apron, the sudden motion scattering clumsily piled groceries across the counter and onto the floor around them. He hissed in pleasure as Koga's hands found his now-bare back. He felt fingernails etching lines down his back. "Brand me," he whispered, shoving his hips against Koga's. "Now."

Koga's fingers dug deep into muscles as his face bent forward, his teeth and lips biting down on Sho's shoulder. His hips ground up against Sho's as he sucked, his fingers gripping his ass and forcing him forward. Sho moaned, the sound ripped out of his core. He tangled his hand in the dark waves of Koga's hair, his other braced on the high cabinet. Koga's hand traced up and around Sho's hip to cup his erection through the soft apron, forcing Sho's head back as he grit his teeth in pleasure. Another moan ripped from his lips when the actor's hand jerked at the bow and his apron fell to the floor. He felt himself grow wet and slick with precum, the actor's hand sliding easily over his exposed length, his mouth never leaving Sho's chest.

"More," Sho gasped. His body shook with shock as he felt the length of Koga's hardness slide alongside his, the actor's apron joined with his in a heap at their feet. Strong fingers wrapped gently around them both, joining the two men as one. Sho's legs shook, his own hand beating rapidly against himself, the feeling of Koga licking his skin, stroking him, his length hard and running along his own, their bodies hot and shaking all more real than anything beyond his closed eyes.

He could almost hear Koga moan, his body tensely rocking against Sho. The imagined sound broke his fragile control and ripped forth his own sharp cry of pleasure and pain as Sho exploded onto the shower wall.

He stood still, shaking, slowly pulling back from the high. His fist pounded in rhythmic denial against the wall as the water washed it all away except the damn need still coiled in his core. Sho growled, turning off the water. It was never going to be enough without him.

In the sudden silence of the bathroom he heard the clang of pans and dishes in the kitchen. Blood rushed to his face as the possibility everything was overheard filled his mind.

"Oh, God…" Sho groaned, collapsing against the wall of the shower. "Oh _fuck._ "

He pushed himself up and groped blindly for a towel, his mind racing as he roughly dried his hair and skin. How thick was the door? How loud was he? He threw the towel at the door with a thunk, looking sideways at the mirror. He stood there, completely exposed, his skin flushed from the heat of the water and rush of blood.

In the reflection he glimpsed Koga's robe hung on the back of the door. Sho felt an almost childlike longing to wrap himself in it for protection.

He turned and ripped it down, burying his face in it. It smelled exactly as he imagined. Apples and leather. He swathed himself in the folds, cinching it tight around his core. Sho looked at the door. If he walked out there right now— if he owned all of this— if he was overheard… would Koga's arms encircle him like the robe's tie? He fingered the fabric, emotions warring within him.

He walked out the door.


	84. Two A.M.

Koga woke up when his hand slipped off the back of the couch and hit empty cushion. He frowned in sleepy confusion. There had been someone- his eyes opened slowly. His lap was empty.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. Hell, he hadn't meant to let Sho in. He looked at the almost full plate of cold tempera on the table. No use arguing with himself; the sight of the singer in the hallway surrounded by rolling peppers was exactly what he wanted to see after tonight. And exactly what he didn't need.

"Mmmmm," Koga groaned at himself. Why was it always a straight man? Was it some intimacy issue? Maybe he needed to see a therapist. First it was Tsuruga consuming his mind. Now he kept letting Fuwa in his life, over and over again, as if he were begging for something to happen. He could still feel residual warmth lingering on his legs. He needed to go back to The Annex and find someone who actually wanted to be with a man. Even just a fling would be healthier than this.

He stood, wrapping his blanket around himself as he shuffled to the bathroom. The light was on. He could hear the water running, and - panting breath. Koga froze, his heart in his mouth. He needed to turn around, walk back to the couch, and go back to sleep. His hand slowly turned the doorknob instead.

Steam and light escaped the small gap; steam and light surrounded Sho as he showered. His hand braced high against the wall, fog on the glass paneling obscuring most of his body except for his face. Sho's head rocked back, his teeth bared and eyes shut. Koga felt heat rush through his body as the singer moaned, the sound rising from him to fill the small space with his voice. The rich, deep timbre of desire pulled from a musician's core. The singer's shoulders jerked; his mouth opened in a gasp, a shorter, sharper sound escaping him. Koga's hand shook as he shut the door, sliding down against it, the blanket pooled around his feet.

His hands shook as primal need overwhelmed him. Sho's voice- Koga moaned, feeling a tightness growing within him as he let himself admit how badly he wanted to be the cause of that sound.

"Damn," he muttered, his head slumping against the door.

He heard the water turn off and picked himself up off the floor. He kept busy in the kitchen, making obvious noises to show how far away from the bathroom he was located. Sho emerged, his hair mussed by a towel, Koga's robe wrapped around him.

"Ah," the singer said quietly. "Sorry I fell asleep. And- I took your robe. Can I, ah, borrow some clothes?"

Koga nodded, pointing silently at the guest bedroom.

"Then leave," he said simply.

Sho stared at him.

"Leave? It's-" He craned his neck to peer at the clock. "Two A.M."

"You come here, you fill my kitchen with trash food, you force me to cook for you to stop you from burning down the house, then you pass out on my couch, wake me up in the middle of the night, and steal my clothes."

Koga met his eyes, trying to hold every emotion back from his own.

He would stop this dance. He would put an end to the temptation to make this into something more than it was before he crossed the line again. He was pathetically close to it, stealing comfort from Sho while he slept, and now - he grimaced at his lack of control - even watching him shower. He was dangerously close to losing. Dangerously close to trying to force himself on Sho. Even now he could feel the pull to walk over and rip the robe off him and draw rougher, sharper, deeper sounds from his mouth. He knew how it would end - how it always ended when he chased someone straight. He would not be used and thrown aside for someone's artistic inspiration.

"You're lazy, incompetent, and self-centered." He threw the words at Sho in desperation. _Leave_. "You're a child, Fuwa. Go make your manager babysit you again."

Sho stood quietly on the other side of the room, a strange look in his eyes, his hand fiddling with the tie of the robe.

"I'm trying." The words were simple and strangely pure. Koga winced, turning away to hide his expression from him.

"Koga-"

"Not anymore, Fuwa," Koga said. He would put an end to this. He could hear Sho walking over and clenched his fist. If he let him come in the kitchen he wouldn't be able to hold back. He could already see in his mind's eye exactly where to pull on the tie of the robe, undoing it in one smooth motion.

"I can change," Sho said, his voice soft. "I'll learn to cook - I haven't ever actually tried, it was just too fun to mess with you. I can - I know how to clean; I've watched Kyoko…" his voice trailed off. Koga held his hand up.

"Change your clothes, Fuwa. Then leave."


	85. Homecoming

Kuon was waiting around the corner of the restaurant for her when she finally left. They'd staggered their exits purposefully, Kyoko's nerves demanding extra precautions so as to not raise suspicions. He was smiling at his phone and didn't notice her approach.

"What's so funny?" she said, leaning on his arm to try and see his phone screen.

He circled his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close as he tilted the phone to show her clearly. It was the group photo from earlier. Kyoko's face on screen was flushed, her smile genuine and bright. She was surrounded by people she could now call friends. Except for one.

He was much, much more.

"Your face!" she said, giggling as she studied the photo. Kuon pursed his lips and zoomed in on himself.

"What? It's just my face."

"That is _not_ just a face. That, sempai, is the Emperor of the Night." She dodged down to escape his tightening arm as he tried to capture her and muss her hair. She shook her finger at him. "He is definitely not allowed out in public."

Kuon shrugged, stepping forward to close the distance between them again. "Good thing we aren't staying in public, then." His voice was pitched low, his eyes narrowing lustfully as he gazed at her.

"Stop it-" she said, still laughing. "You're making the face on purpose now."

Kuon ran his finger across his lips, watching her reaction closely. Her eyes widened, focusing in on his mouth. He smiled devilishly, leaned in and grabbed her about the waist, pulling her close for a kiss. Kyoko squeaked in protest, smacking his chest but her hand fell light and soft, betraying her true feelings.

"Let's go home," Kuon whispered against her lips. Kyoko blushed red, but merely nodded. The word _home_ rang in her mind, an unforeseen longing to make his innocent statement true rising up in her and keeping her silent. It was just a slip of his tongue. A common reference.

Their ride was quiet, both enjoying the simple pleasure of being close. His fingers moved ceaselessly over her hand where it lay on the center console until she wrapped his hand in hers and drew it over to rest on her lap.

His top-floor apartment was dark and as cool and sterile as always. Kyoko made a mental note to bring flowers, or colorful table mats. Maybe a panorama of the beaches at Guam! She smiled as she dumped her bag in the corner, shuffling on the guest slippers and padding into the kitchen. Guam was where she'd met Corn again and seen his wings. She laughed under her breath at herself and her utter refusal to connect the extremely obvious dots. She had been part right in her delusions, at least - in a way, Tsuruga Ren did have fairy ancestors. He was a fictional character himself, more intangible even than her fairies! To think that Prince Corn was more real than Tsuruga Ren. Kyoko beamed. She resisted the urge to fling her arms out and spin in a circle, drinking in the joy of being in the apartment belonging to Corn the Fairy Prince himself!

The Prince had stayed in the doorway, leaning against the closed door. She did spin then, dancing on her tip toes as she laughed, beckoning him to come join her. He surprised her by staying still, watching her, not even bending to remove his street shoes. Kyoko cocked her head, curious.

It hit her in a sudden rush. "Oh!" she cried, covering her mouth with her hands. She'd just completely made herself at home - dumping her things, commandeering his kitchen, imagining new decor, even dancing!

"I'm sorry!"

Kuon frowned at her slightly, his eyes focusing on hers in question. "Sorry?"

"I just- I'm sorry; this is your home. I'm acting like its mine." She walked over quickly to tidy her bag and knelt to straighten her shoes, repenting to herself for even thinking of changing his perfect decor.

His eyes widened, then his face crumpled into a strange half-smile, half-grimace. He looked like he was about to cry. Kyoko stood in a rush and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Forgive me! I'm sorry," she repeated quietly, her mind rushing to think of ways to make up for her error.

"No," he said, the single syllable choked off as he wrapped his arms around her in a crushing hug. "No, I'm not upset. I'm… oh Kyoko, please make this your home."

Kyoko froze, suddenly a stiff statue in his arms. Not the words she'd been expecting to hear. He continued, his hand rubbing her back, the pressure keeping both of them stable. "Watching you walk in here... You bring life. This place, without you... What kind of home is it?" His arms pulled in her tighter still, his head bending to nuzzle against hers. "It's just rooms."

"Stay with me tonight," he continued.

She didn't answer, her eyes wide with confusion as she tried to reconcile the emotions warring within her.

"Stay with me forever," he whispered, his hands convulsing slightly where they clung to her.

Kyoko buried her face in his chest, her own hands tightly knitted in his shirt. "It's not proper."

"We lived together for weeks as the Heels."

"That was acting."

"Was it?"

Kyoko shook her head. Then nodded. Then shook her head. He gently lifted her chin, silently asking her to look at him.

"I want you here," he said earnestly. "Whenever you're ready." She nodded, bright tears gathered in the corners of her own eyes from ill-contained joy. Someone wanted her. Kuon wanted her.

He kissed her forehead. "We could… practice…"

She pushed back to see his face clearly, examining him for evidence of the Emperor's resurgence. She found none, just Kuon. "Practice?"

"We are going to be resuming Cain and Setsu," he said, biting his lip as if to hold back the smile running suddenly rampant over his face.

"And their parental overseers," she reminded him, suspicious.

"Don't tell me you think Setsuka Heel would choose to bunk up with her _mother_ instead of her beloved brother." He eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Kuon-" she interjected, her tone warning him. He just shrugged, turning to finally slip off his shoes for house slippers.

"My parents will be in _full_ character for this trip. It's the perfect way to meet, yet not meet, to have contact, yet wait for everything to come full circle. Plus," he paused with a sarcastic sigh. "There's a reason Takarada Lory is best friends with my mother and father." He raised his eyebrows knowingly at Kyoko. "Birds of a feather flock together. They are going to eat up these roles like it's an all-you-can eat buffet they've been saving coupons for."

"That doesn't mean we have to do the same," she tried to reason with him. "We can get individual rooms."

He stared at her for a moment, then let his face fall. She watched as his features transformed piece by piece into the annoyingly effective one-shot kill Cain Heel trademarked puppy dog face.

"No," she said, backing up in mock fear.

"Setsu…" he whined, following her.

"Not going to happen," she reiterated, unable to pull her eyes away. He pouted, his shoulders falling. "Not… oh God, stop. Fine."

Kuon beamed, fire flashing through his eyes in victory.

"But I don't think it's necessary," she said, wanting the final word.

"We'll be in a foriegn country, in full disguise, promoting Cain's movie prior to the official release, and most definitely prior to Tsuruga Ren's public reveal as the actor." Kuon ticked off each item on his fingers. "It is every _bit_ as necessary as it was during filming, if not more so. Do you know anything about the London paparazzi?"

Kyoko shook her head. Her international experience was, well, zilch.

"They. Watch. Everything." She saw nothing but deviousness in his smile and swallowed hard. "In taxis… restaurants… lobbies…" He looked down at her, running his fingers through the fringe of her hair. "...bedrooms," he finished, his voice deep and full of promise. She gulped.

"When are we going to the onsen?" she said, throwing out the first question she could think of to get him off his train of thought. She winced at herself. Not a great choice.

"What? Onsen?" Kuon was clearly off-balance, his brows furrowed as he paused in his advances.

Making a flash decision that her being in charge of the dynamics was far safer than his lead, Kyoko summoned up her experience on-set. Natsu and Momiji in tandem would do nicely. Incite but restrain. Her hand lightly grazed his chest as she looked up at him from under her lashes.

"You promised," she said. "And if they watch… everything…" She let the word slide off her tongue laced with hidden meaning. "Then we need to go _before_ we leave."

She saw Kuon swallow hard, his eyes fixated on her mouth. She deliberately bit her lip, letting it slide slowly out. His lips fell open slightly, then closed again as he licked them. Kyoko smiled at the tiny proof she was having an effect on him.

She turned, walking away from him, her hips swaying slightly more than usual. Momiji's scene with Koga had been without eye contact. That gave her some leeway, a border of propriety. Facing away from him, Kyoko bent over a little too slowly to draw her phone out of her bag. She heard his breath hitch and rose, ignoring him. Kyoko cocked her hip and ran her finger absent-mindedly along the nape of her neck, pretending to play with the loose hairs tickling her skin as she searched on her phone.

She felt him draw near; felt his breath warm on her neck as he leaned down. Just before he touched her she stepped forward, never looking back, pretending not to notice his proximity. She walked into the kitchen to sit on one of his stools. Natsu would definitely pull out her lip gloss right now. Momiji - Momiji would be done with this by now. Kyoko smiled at herself, choosing her own way.

She glanced up at Kuon. He was still standing in the living room, watching her, waiting. She beckoned him with just two fingers, patting the counter next to her. He crossed the room in a flash and she sat the phone down, showing him Google-sensei's results. As she scrolled, commenting mindlessly on the local onsens and their reviews, she let herself swirl one finger over the back of his hand. His skin was so smooth it felt like silk beneath her touch. She heard him sigh and looked up to see his eyes closed, his face peaceful except for slightly knitted eyebrows.

Kyoko bit her own lip. Drawing reactions out of him was like a drug - she had thought the end-all of her goals was to dominate him on stage, but these moments were theirs alone. No one else would know the feelings coursing through their bodies right now, every touch electric.

How much more could she draw out of him?

She felt his hand move beneath hers, turning upwards to lace his fingers between her own. Her heart started racing. Such a simple contact, it shouldn't have this depth of meaning and yet it was everything. Kyoko breathed out slowly. If this was how she reacted to such innocent gestures as holding hands with him, a rushed onsen trip was probably not a great idea.

"Let's not force this," she said, working hard to keep the shaking out of her voice. "We will only be gone for two weeks. We can go when we get back." She felt his fingers tense around hers and purposefully avoided his gaze.

"If you don't want to go, it's fine," he said. He'd leaned forward so his face was mere inches away from hers. She risked a glance but his eyes were looking at her small phone screen. He smelled so good; his shampoo and scent pervaded her senses as they stood close together.

Kyoko studied him as he read the review she'd pulled up. He seemed calm and steady, as if he really meant what he'd said.

"You won't be disappointed?" Kuon turned to look at her and she frowned. It wasn't Kuon she was looking at; it was Ren. He'd pulled the mask down again, emotions trying to hide behind a gentleman's blase.

Kyoko _tsk_ ed at him, bopping her finger on his nose. "Not him- you." Kuon blinked, standing up slightly with confusion on his face.

"Don't hide behind your mask with me anymore, Hizuri," she said, starting off with a mock scolding tone. By the time she reached his surname her voice had turned gentle. "You're home," she whispered. She laid her hands on either side of his face and pulled him down, pressing his forehead tightly against hers. She didn't close her eyes, watching his expression carefully. He winced slightly, as if in pain, then sagged as tension ebbed from his entire body.

"Home," he sighed, opening his own eyes.

The world outside was humming with action, but their small part of it was still, caught in a moment of perfect awareness of another person. Her smile was bright but swift, appearing and disappearing like shooting stars. His was laced with lingering doubt, the edges never fully caught. Home. It wasn't perfect yet, but it was theirs and that was enough for now.

"Don't leave," he whispered.

She shook her head and burrowed into his chest, wrapping her arms around him.

"Try and make me," she said, her face aglow with contentment.

Kuon laughed. "You'd kick my ass," he said. "I've seen Momiji fight." Kyoko punched him playfully.

"Cain and Momiji," she pondered aloud.

"Yikes," he said. "Let's stick with Setsu."


	86. Fried Chicken & Fumbling

His hair fell over his eyes, heavy with moisture from his shower. Drops of now-chilled water dripped on his chest where it lay bare between the folds of Koga's robe.

_Leave._

He felt anger start to uncoil desperate and heavy in his gut.

"I'm trying," he repeated, his teeth clenched around the words this time.

Koga's hand fell to a fist at his side, then latched onto another stupid pot to put away. _Shit in place my ass_ , Sho thought.

"Look at me," he growled. Koga ignored him, starting to stuff groceries into random cabinets. Noodles went on top of ceramic plates; onions balanced inside mugs.

"I'm not leaving."

"Like hell you aren't, Sho," Koga responded, finally turning to confront him. "Get out."

Sho stalked into the kitchen and grabbed Koga by the collar, pushing him against the counter. Koga sneered at him, his hands still by his side.

This was not how this scene was supposed to go.

"AHHH!" Sho roared in frustration, slamming Koga's back into the counter. He turned and fled the kitchen, his mind empty except for a white-hot mix of rage and sadness. He ripped off his robe as he entered the guest bedroom, throwing it back into the living room to land in a heap and pull on the discarded leather pants and shirt from the photo shoot.

Koga called out to him as he crossed the living room. "I said you could borrow clothes, twat."

"As if I want to smell your stench all night," Sho grumbled, refusing to look at the actor as he unlocked the apartment door and fled down the hall.

Sho felt himself starting to harden in place staring at the closing elevator doors. He'd apologized to Kyoko for him. He'd had an entire MV re-written for him. He'd picked him up drunk at a GAY BAR. He'd tried to help him snare a _boyfriend,_ for Chrissake. He'd gone f'ing grocery shopping for him! How much was he supposed to lay down of himself?

The doors opened. Sho walked. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep warm against the cold night and dumpster fire of a day.

Every "friend" he'd had - all two of them, he scoffed at himself, kicking at debris on the sidewalk - ended this way. Yelling curses at him. Calling him selfish. Stupid. A child.

"I'm f*ing Fuwa Sho," he demanded of the empty sidewalk. He threw his arms out, staring up at the sky. "No one can stop me. I made this - I came from f*ing nothing, stupid country inn, and I _made this life._ " Sho reached up toward the sky, his head thrown back. "No one can touch me," he roared.

A businessman jerked awake with a snort from the bus stop ledge next to him, startling him. The man rubbed bleary bloodshot eyes and looked around, confused. Sho grimaced and walked on before the man recognized him. Not that the man would recognize many people in that condition.

"Fuwa Sho..." he repeated, his voice trailing off. He was cold. He heard the click of a lighter behind him. The drunk was leaned back on the seat, smoking a fresh cigarette and staring at the sky. He reached his hand up for the stars, his fingers twisting aimlessly as the smoke curled higher than their tips.

Alone. Wasted. Staring at the cold stars.

Sho saw himself.

 _No_.

He'd overcome the crush of Tokyo anonymity. He'd forced his way into the music world. To the top. He'd held the top for weeks now - breaking record after record. He'd smashed every pretender and competitor that arose.

He wasn't about to let a single actor with a fridge full of strawberry pudding stop his rise.

"F* the stars," he called out to the businessman. "Make your own path."

The man said nothing, just tipped the ash off the end of his cigarette.

Sho shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.

Shoko was also strangely silent, opening the door to her place without any questions. At least that was going in his favor. He knew he didn't have great answers. He walked into her bathroom to take another shower and wash off the scent of the other man's shampoo.

Two days passed. Showers and wanderings and sleep.

"Write your damn song," the actor had thrown at him. Sho chewed on the end of his pen. Still just inane scribbles. He had never been stuck like this before. Even against the Beagles he'd found his way. Sho smirked; no matter what crap was happening that stupid band name always cheered him up. He spun around off the chair and went to order more food and beer. He'd find the song. He had to.

Another day passed. Sho's greatest discovery was a new fried chicken place. The notepad remained empty.

Shoko handed him a CD case the next day.

"What's this crap?" he said, pouting at the lack of concern she'd showed him during his slump.

"Well, it's not your usual crappy porn," she said.

"I don't watch porn."

"Mhmmm. Anyways, thought this might do to help inspire you." Shoko poked him on his shoulder. "She's always worked before."

Sho looked at her suspiciously. "She?"

"Kyoko-chan."

Sho grimaced and tossed the disk onto the couch next to him.

"Watch the music video, Sho." Shoko stood and gathered her things. "Or I'll call Poochi to come tend to you."

"I can write fine," Sho yelled, feeling anger rising again.

"Mhmmm," Shoko hummed again. "That's why I've thrown away four notebooks full of angry tornado-spirals. Not a single legible word in any of them." She paused. "Even if you think it won't help, you should still watch it. You did an excellent job."

Sho ran his fingers through his hair. His work on that music video had nothing to do with his own talent. Yet again, that girl had pulled a performance out of him beyond expectations.

"I refuse to do another video with her," he said quietly.

"Kyoko-chan?"

Sho nodded. Shoko shook her head, confused. "But the sales for _Prisoner_ were excellent, and your chemistry on set for _Chocolate_ was beyond even that. It's going to be another huge hit."

"She's a crutch," he said simply. "I don't need crutches."

Shoko studied him, then nodded briskly and turned to leave.

Sho fingered the CD case, staring at the TV.

"I don't need crutches," he repeated to the empty apartment. He stood and slid the disc into the player, turning off the lights before he sat down on the floor in front of the screen.

The video played without prompting, a pre-release just for the cast and agents. He heard his voice an octave deeper than in previous releases, pushing his limits to capture the right ache and tension he'd wanted in the song.

Kyoko's kimono was luridly bright against the pale sand, her movements full of power as she spun and kicked. Sho rubbed his chin, watching her closely. With his lyrics overlaying her martial dance, each glimpse of skin beneath the swirling fabric demanded notice. She'd changed in their year apart.

He straightened subconsciously as he watched himself walk on-screen. The white kimono was off-putting at first; opposite of his typical attire. Looked like some friggin angel samurai. But his stride was powerful, and he snagged the attention away from Kyoko. Sho rolled his shoulders to release tension, proud of on-screen Sho.

Their combat-dance started just as the chorus broke through. Sho could feel the tension building; lyrics of lust and illicit touches drawn over the rhythmic beat echoed in each grip and punch on set. He bit his lip to keep from humming the words, his fingers tapping out the rhythm on his knee.

She struck him— he dodged, cut back, tripped her— the film slowed motion and camera zoomed in on their faces as Sho leaned down, his fingers gently clasping her neck, her lips open, waiting; his own eyes darkened with need as he drew her to him.

Sho swallowed hard, his finger rubbing the fast forward button. He wanted to skip it. Skip over the proof — proof of what, only he knew. But he found himself transfixed watching his face show desperate longing for another person.

Had _he_ seen that face?

Sho hit pause.

All the times he'd let his guard down around Koga in ways he'd never even considered for another person. All the times he'd let it all shift; let the very fabric of who he thought he was be pulled apart by those slender fingers

How much more could he change for Koga before he lost himself? Sho stared at himself on screen.

Someone else could draw that out of him without demanding his world. This was an aberration. A mistake. He'd find someone else that wanted him as he was.

_Childish. Stupid. Selfish._

Sho cursed and hit play, seeking refuge in the success of the MV. The music crescendoed as the action paused, then shifted to more subtle shots— their sparring from above; the waves crashing, a close-up of their lips nearly touching.

The final scene showed Kyoko walking away from him into the waves, her hair undone and flying in the wind, his back turned from her.

She'd walked away in real life, too; hadn't she. The words she'd flung at him in fury slammed into his mind.

_You took me to Tokyo because it was convenient. But for me you were everything!_

_We were once friends, Sho._

Their figures on screen were frozen, separated; her character standing in the waves and his on shore. He had a sudden awful feeling that she would know exactly how he felt. That she would know exactly what he should do. His stomach clenched.

_She's always worked before._

He lay back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. His hand drew his phone out of his pocket and pushed #2 speed dial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Shotaro WE GONNA BREAK YOU. Ahem. Hope you're having as much fun with our two couples as I am! Question is - who is #1 and who is #2 speed dial for Sho?
> 
> Thanks as always for reading and for your reviews! I'm about a week away from having a baby, can you believe it?! I shall blame any angst on pregnancy hormones. And any lapses in updating on L&D XD
> 
> Persie loves you!


	87. Reunited & It Feels Damn Good

The room was packed with people but most stood, clustered together in a heap of luggage and fast food near the check in line. The flight wasn't scheduled to leave for an hour; flustered attendants tried to gently guide the passengers to open seats but all refused, turning to hide behind open newspapers or boxes of chicken tenders.

At least twenty seats lay open around him.

His legs were spread wide, his arms thrown out and his head lolling back, swaying side to side rhythmically as he waited. He radiated a dark energy, a rare tension beneath his frame that made evident his ability to move from seeming sloth to havoc without warning.

His head rolled around to rest on his chest lazily, the only movement coming from his fingers as he rolled an unlit cigarette back and forth. The stick slowly deformed under the pressure. He flicked it aside to roll on the floor, his eyes hidden beneath his dark, tousled fringe. Heels clicked on the linoleum floor down the hall and his eyes flashed open, sudden life sparked deep within. A woman in the crowd gasped in fright; a man dropped his newspaper.

Cain shifted his eyes, searching for the source of the sound, the rest of him motionless. His fingers twitched as the heels paused, turned, stopped in front of him. Dark eyes traveled slowly up white legs barely obscured by torn fishnet stockings, pausing appreciatively at the emerald eyed skull buckle on the tight leather shorts before raising along with his chin to lock gazes.

"Sister," he growled.

She smiled down at him, her eyes flashing a fire without heat.

"Nii-san," she purred.

He finally moved, wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her forward against him to nuzzle her bare stomach, his hands lightly scratching her lower back in the way he knew she loved.

An elderly man coughed, clearing his throat. Without looking away from her nii-san, Setsu dropped her luggage and sank into his lap. She heard the old man's cough turn convulsive and smirked, licking her tongue over her lip ring.

"An hour before we board," she said, cocking her head at her nii-san. "I'm bored already."

"You haven't seen me in two days," Cain said under his breath, his fingers still tracing over the bare skin of her back as she sat sideways in his lap. "Am I not enough for you?"

Setsu rested her head on Cain's shoulder, shifting her hips in slightly closer to his. "Nii-san…" she whined. "Don't make this about you. I'm the one who's bored."

Cain wrapped his hands around her tiny waist and lifted her up off his lap. Her face betrayed no surprise at the sudden motion, or his ability to swing her entire body around with such ease. She just stood and waited, holding her hand out at the perfect angle for his entire torso to run against her fingers effortlessly as he rose in front of her.

"I'll buy you something," he said gruffly. He twined his hand into hers and started to walk away. They left their luggage unattended in silent statement that no one would dare touch it.

"You'll buy yourself something," she said as she lifted his arm and pressed herself into his side, her hips swaying against his as they walked interlocked. "To eat."

Cain huffed and patted her head without committing.

"It's been too long since you left," he said, his arm warm around her shoulder. "Don't go away for that long again."

"Nii-san, you were the busy one," Setsu said, poking his side. "I had to entertain myself somehow. A spa trip was better than being locked up in our room waiting on you."

Cain growled and stopped walking, jerking her to a sudden stop beside him. She looked up at him, her face calm, waiting.

"Spa," he said simply.

Setsu smirked. "Massage."

Cain's face darkened.

Setsu cocked her head at him teasingly. She stepped backwards onto the moving walkway, standing still as it carried her away from him. "If I said the masseuse was a man…" Her smile grew feral as her brother spurred into sudden motion, crossing the distance to her side in a blur. His jacket swirled around them both as he caught her up in his arms, holding her high and tight. Setsu purred, twining her hands into his hair.

"Good," she said quietly.

Cain grunted. "You're mine." He lowered her enough to look her in the eyes, his burning with passion as he searched hers for the truth. "It was a woman."

"It was no one," Setsu giggled. "I wouldn't even let another woman touch me. I spent my time trying to pick out matching tattoos and looking for apartments in London." She traced his collarbone. "Remember when you said I could mark you?" Cain stretched his neck to the side, his hair falling softly away from the spot they both cherished. "I'm going to have to do that over every day unless you let us get a tattoo."

Cain set her down finally as they reached the end of the moving walkway. "Not a very persuasive argument for getting a tattoo, sister." He grabbed her gloved hand in his and guided her to the closest food store. The store cleared out conveniently when they walked in with her brother in the lead, removing the annoyance of waiting in lines.

Setsu happily fed her brother from the bag of mixed nuts he'd finally agreed to, picking out one at a time, her fingers lightly brushing his lips with each bite as he carried their luggage on board. They'd wandered the rest of the hour, settling on just this simple snack and matching demon-shaped luggage tags as their only purchases.

Setsu plopped into the comfortable seat of their first class private cabin, her face bored but her fingers betraying her excitement at the experience. Setsu played with all the buttons, making lights flicker on and off, the tv tray extend and retract, the seat recline fully - "Nii-san, a bed. No excuses for refusing to sleep now." She flopped full-length onto the chair as it fell back, her eyes closing in comfort. A timid attendant bowed, waiting for Cain to deposit their luggage in the aisle before storing it and racing away to attend to other passengers. Cain rolled his shoulders, sinking slowly into the seat next to her.

He turned his head to watch her, his seat still upright. She pushed the button on the side of his seat and lowered him, her face fixated on his as slowly his eyes came down to level with hers. She licked her lips as the inches between them lessened. He shifted, rolling onto his side to look at her. He raised his hand and tucked her pink-streaked bangs behind her ear, his hand resting lightly on her neck. Setsu's face blushed, her lips falling open slightly as she drank in the sight of her beloved nii-san filling the small space.

Her phone binged. Setsu shifted, drawing it out. Cain's eyes narrowed, his hand shifting down to grip the phone.

"Nii-san, just one check before we take off. It could be mom and dad."

Cain's fingers relaxed, but his eyes remained intense.

She opened the message. Her eyes widened.

Cain waited.

Setsu started to put the phone away, but Cain stopped her with his hand on her wrist.

"What's the message," he growled.

"Just work," she said simply. "Not important enough to steal my attention from you."

He grunted, pulling her wrist up. "Open it."

Setsu shook her head, a sexy smirk flickering over her lips. "I wouldn't want you to get… jealous." She bit her lip gently, playing with her tongue ring.

Cain pulled her hand up to his mouth, nipping each of her fingers as they wrapped around the phone. "Open it, sister." She felt her breath start to come too quickly. She slid her thumb down and pressed to download the attachment.

"It's the MV I filmed," she said nonchalantly. Cain's entire body tensed, his fingers tightening a fraction against her skin. He sat up, his eyes drilling into her. She pressed the button to raise both their chairs, resting against hers as she rose.

Setsu waited until she was level with him, then shifted herself over to sit on his lap, nestling back against him, burrowing herself into his body and wrapping his hands around her waist. She held the phone sideways in front of them.

"The only one in my mind was you, nii-san," she said softly. "I want you to watch this and see how I look when I'm thinking of you."

Cain's hands flexed around her waist. "He was touching you," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I saw."

Setsu traced her fingers lightly over the bare skin of his wrist. "Then you touch me more," she said. "Watch closely. Remember everywhere he touched. Take it back, nii-san. Take back every move." She moved his hand lower to rest on her leg, pressing his fingers to wrap around her muscled thigh. "Don't forget a single inch."

She pushed play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: HOOBOY Persie's first time writing the Heels! I have been so stinking excited for this arc and I am thrilled it snuck in before baby! Please send feedback, I'm anxious to hear what you think of my rendition of them and your ideas. Thanks for reading! Persie loves you!
> 
> Ps special thanks to Aki-dearest who beta'd part of this ch for me. Ultra Competent Award officially awarded XD
> 
> PS PS Tattoo comment by Setsu is absolutely an homage to alitablake's fic Parallel Reflections on FF.net. 100%!


	88. Twelve Hours

He could feel tension radiating off him as he sat perfectly still behind her. His body wanted to tremble as the music started and that voice crawled into his ear drum. He flexed his fingers on her leg, willing himself to remain perfectly still. 

She was as beautiful as he remembered. Enough to make a goddess envious. Her martial dance was full of fire and strength, threatening to draw him out of his current role and throw him into Rusu’s belligerent need. Her voice pulled him back. 

“It would’ve been better if it were black. And torn.” Setsu sighed, her eyes narrowing. “Maybe some blood there-- nii-san, it’s not fair. Your costume as BJ was so much better than mine.” 

Cain huffed under his breath, not answering immediately. She continued to stare at the small screen, her eyes clearly displaying disapproval. 

He nuzzled her neck. “You’re beautiful.” 

She leaned back into him fully, just as the other man walked onto the screen. He wanted to shut his eyes but found himself snared as she danced seemingly unaware of the other’s encroaching presence. The man struck out suddenly; the two began to clash; her dance merging with his, their eyes locking and releasing alongside their limbs. Cain’s breath came hard and fast through his nose, his lips pressed tight with the effort to not rip the phone out of her hands and fling it across the plane. 

“Nii-san,” she whispered to him, pointing at the screen. “Look at my eyes.” 

He forced his focus away from the intertwined bodies to her face. 

“They only saw you,” she said, leaning her head to the side. Her hair fell off her shoulders, exposing beautiful bare skin as perfect as in the video. “Make it true.” Her voice was husky. “Mark me now. Make me yours the way I imagined when we filmed.” 

His breath caught in his throat, the on-screen tension suddenly filling his gut with need as he let the truth roll over him that every glance, every sharp breath, every evidence of lust seen on her face as she fought was for him and him alone. She filled his senses; even the lyrics sung in that voice resonated within him as a message only for her and her nii-san. The action on-screen hit its climax as the white-clad man drew her down, pulling her close. Cain growled under his breath and claimed her neck with his lips, pouring his passion for her body and soul into his kiss. The world would know she was his. 

She gasped, the phone falling from her trembling fingers as she clasped his wrists instead. “Nii--” she muttered, the tender phrase falling short. Her fingers clenched and unclenched around his arms, soft sounds drawn from her as he sucked, losing himself in her. 

“...Mr. Hizuri? Ms. Mogami?” A flight attendant cleared her throat.

His mouth stilled its feverish movement across her skin. 

Paper rustled in the aisle, the flight attendant shuffling their ticket stubs nervously. “Kindly follow the directives the pilot has given. We cannot begin take off procedures until you are both secured in your seat restraints.” She swallowed hard and took a step back. 

Kyoko had turned to stone in his lap. A memorial statue carved by primitive hands; her eyes wide and sightless, mouth a simple slit, fists mere lumps around his wrists, legs pressed together in perfect statuary modesty. Kuon lifted her stiff form off his lap and into her seat in one smooth motion, reaching over to buckle her in before buckling himself in. 

He forced a smile at the attendant. Her ashen face betrayed it was a less than successful attempt to hide his bitterness at the interruption. “Perhaps more forewarning next time,” he said under his breath. 

“Mr. Hizuri, sir, the plane has been taxying for five minutes now. The pilot himself as well as three flight attendants have explained the need to secure yourself. A personal interruption was… unavoidable or we would have to break formation for take off and delay the flight.” 

Kuon nodded briskly, his face coloring slightly. Had he really been so consumed by her he’d blocked out everything going on around them? He glanced at his statuary girlfriend, placing his hand on her frozen knee. “Please accept our apologies,” he said without elaboration. 

The flight attendant blushed furiously and nodded, disappearing. 

Kuon sighed. This was his fault. He had pushed to start acting as the siblings the moment they left regardless of what information was on their passports. If the trip was to be as the Heels, let it be the entire trip. But he knew it wasn’t necessary or wise. Guam had been sufficient traveling as themselves and meeting with Miss Woods for disguise on-location. 

He just loved the thrill of being Cain and Setsu together. Their time as this pair was limited with the release approaching daily, and he wasn’t ready for it to end. Something about the edginess hit a craving within him, so very opposite the role of Tsuruga Ren he’d acted for too many years. 

Kuon scoffed. Who was he kidding? 

It was absolutely not the edginess. It was the fact the siblings held almost no personal boundaries for one another. It was the perfect excuse to touch her in public, to flaunt his very real jealousy, to be petty and needy and spoiled and have her indulge his every whim. 

God, he loved being Cain. 

And his selfishness may have just gotten both of them in very real trouble. If the flight attendant recognized either of their names and connected the dots skillfully enough, she could unravel the reveal of the Heels -- or of Tsuruga Ren. 

Kuon bit his lip, looking over at Kyoko. It wasn’t likely; the film had kept images of Cain Heel completely out of publication. The only glimpses of the villain in previews had been of bloodshot eyes or a dark shadow. His sister’s existence hadn’t even been picked up by tabloids yet, thanks to the diligence of Director Konoe. Moreover, Kyoko’s stage name omitted her family name, and she looked so wildly different as Setsuka she was likely safe from any personal connection. 

The only danger lay to Hizuri Kuon. 

He reached over to pull her towards him in a comforting hug as the plane jerked into forward motion. If Kuon’s name could possibly be tarnished by suddenly appearing in connection to the beautiful creature next to him -- let it be so. Worst case, he could ask her to marry him and really set the entertainment world on fire. Kuon grinned at the crazy idea, stroking her hair tenderly. The plane was gaining momentum quickly, but she remained stiff and hard as rock, her gaze fixated on nothingness. 

“Kyoko?” he whispered, gently pressing his lips to her forehead. She didn’t move. He furrowed his brow as the plane bumped roughly over the tarmac. He ruffled her hand in her hair, trying to draw her out with the simple gesture that had worked before. No response. 

Kuon thought quickly. The freeze started with the sound of her legal name Mogami Kyoko. Kyoko had found herself suddenly called out and caught in extravagant P.D.A. — something Setsu would revel in but which would send Mogami-san into conniptions. The plane’s wheels lifted off the ground and pressed the two back into their seats. He struggled against the sudden g-forces to turn his head to face hers to see her sitting astoundingly straight against the pressure of gravity and take off. 

He needed to get Setsu back until Kyoko could have some privacy. “Sister,” he said, roughening his voice to match Cain’s. She blinked. It would work.

“Setsuka,” he said, pressing his thumb against her lip ring and playing with it gently. She blinked again. Her chest began to move. 

He leaned as close as he could within the seat’s restraints, the plane still climbing rapidly. “She’s gone…” he drew his thumb down from her mouth to run over the love bite he’d just made. “I think she saw it.” She flinched, her hands uncurling. “But if you want to make sure,” he said, hesitating as he moved his hand down over her shoulder. His eyes gleamed as he rested his hand on the coveted spot just below the neckline of her shirt. “I can always make another one.” 

Setsu’s eyes opened, piercing him with their sudden alertness. The plane evened out at the height of its climb just in time for her to wrap her hands around his neck and pull his lips to hers in a passionate kiss. Cain’s eyes grew wide with shock. Her lips pressed against his, her breath rushing over his face. He could feel her lip ring as a hard nub interrupting the softness of their joining and had a sudden desire to suck on it. 

She pulled back, her eyes half-closed. She licked her lips, swirling her tongue around the ring he’d fixated on. “Just as I thought,” she said. 

“Mmmm?” He found himself incapable of words, his chest heaving as he watched his sister. Her lips were already slightly swollen, as if they knew that moment should not have happened. 

“Nii-san tastes just like I imagined you would on the beach that day.” 

Cain groaned and pulled her towards him, pressing her face into his chest tightly, wrapping his arms around her to protect her from lashing out with his need -- and protect him from hers. 

“Sister,” he said roughly. His mouth opened to say something more, but nothing came. 

Setsu stroked his arm with her fingers. “Should we watch the video again?” she said teasingly. Cain grunted, flopping back onto the seat and dragging her with him. 

She shifted in his arms, making herself more comfortable against his chest as she pulled out the remote from between their seats. “Or we could watch a slasher film. I love making fun of the killer. They only wish they were as deliciously scary as you, nii-san.” Setsu flicked on the tv and started searching for a gore fest, her attention shifting rapidly away from their illicit kiss as if it were of little consequence. 

He forced himself to follow her lead, making his body release itself from the iron grip of his will, relaxing his hold on her imperceptibly. She selected an indie film with the title scrawled in bones dripping with blackened, mutilated flesh and plugged her headphones in to the console, shifting to reach up and gently place one of the buds in his ear. 

Cain’s hand rested on her hip. Her high ponytail tickled his chin. Her shoulder dug gently into his ribs, a constant pressure reminding him of the reality of her presence. The bright flashes and sudden screams on screen gave him the perfect excuse for the way his heart hammered beneath her touch. He closed his eyes. The soundtrack of the slasher flick slammed into his ears but his inner vision was filled with her skin, her lips, her neck. Cain sank lower in his seat, resting his head on hers. 

“I love you,” he whispered. Setsu’s eyes remained on the flashing screen, but her hand reached over and tugged off his glove, winding her fingers around his. 

“I love you too, nii-san,” she said softly. 

The twelve hour flight passed in a blur, his senses fading in and out of sleep and satisfaction in her warmth pressed against him. They left the privacy curtain tightly shut most of the time, opening it to call the attendant only once to ask for an entire stash of food and drinks. Setsu snacked on the food, feeding him tidbits from her plate and elbowing him when he tried to refuse. Occasionally the pair would shift positions, one rising and the other lowering, Cain’s head resting on her shoulder, his feet in the aisle, Setsu’s head nestled on his broad chest with her legs tucked up — but never breaking the link of physical touch. 

The call for descent caught them by surprise; sleepy eyes fluttering open to glance at each other. Cain patted her head gently, his thumb brushing her temple. “Home, sister.” 

She smiled lazily and stretched. “Home is where you are, nii-san.” His gaze back was warm, a stark contrast to his dark, ripped clothes and travel-weary features. The cabin lights came on suddenly, fellow passengers’ noises interrupting the peace of their ark. 

Cain stood first when the plane came to a halt, cold disdain falling on him like a mantle as his height breached the walls of their section and his eyes fell over other men and women. Each and every one was a source of irritation — their watchful eyes making assumptions and judgments where they held no authority. Setsu was his. 

Her small hand fell on his arm as she rose, the touch reminding him that as long as she was beside him no one could touch their peace. She was the key. He grabbed their luggage from the attendant with the carefully averted eyes and waited for Setsu to fall in step in front of him. Her hips swayed slightly as she walked, their rhythm matching the swish of her ponytail. Her wake was where he belonged. 

The customs officer stared at them, looking back and forth from their passport photos to their faces, his jaw dropped. He squinted; cocked his head; rubbed his jaw. 

Cain finally had pity on him and smiled, pushing his fringe to the side to mimic Kuon’s hairstyle. Setsu smiled as well, raising her fingers in bunny ears. The officer blinked, shook his head as if clearing away cobwebs, then opened his mouth. 

“Duration of stay?” 

“Two weeks.” 

“Purpose of stay?” 

“Promotional meetings for our film production. And meeting family.” 

“Destination?” 

“London, staying at the Mandarin.” 

The officer paused, his eyes briefly scanning their unorthodox garb, then nodded. 

“Kuon Hizuri and Kyoko Mogami, welcome to the United Kingdom.” 


	89. Great Britannia

A tidal wave of unfamiliar sights and smells crashed over Kyoko as they emerged from customs. The sheer volume of English words, of tall, fair-haired, broad shouldered men and women bustling about making eye contact and queueing in lines for alcohol, coffee, pastries, sausages on rolls -- she closed her eyes, standing still for a moment. 

Home. 

This was Setsu’s home. 

She drew in a breath, trying to force her senses to recognize the smell of frying grease and linoleum as welcoming. A shoulder jostled her, the quickly mumbled, “Soz,” jolting her eyes open.

Cain, wrapped his fingers around hers and stood close. The crowd parted around his shadow like a river running around a massive boulder. His bulk overshadowed her, protecting her, giving her the shelter she needed to readjust. 

“I’m here,” he said. The words were simple. So many other things he could have said.  _ Don’t NG. Don’t NG.  _ She took a deep breath and smelled -- him. 

Her eyes opened slowly. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked up at him, her hand on her hip.

“I’m tired nii-san. Let’s get away from these people and go sleep.” 

Cain nodded, but stood still, waiting. She smiled knowingly and stepped to his side, wrapping both arms around his waist. He grunted in affirmation and lifted their suitcases with one hand, draping his other around her shoulder. She had to let go with one hand to walk, but kept herself partially buried under his long overcoat. His presence was home, no matter what chaos the world around threw at her. From here, she could look out on this new hemisphere, her eyes bored and face placid but every brain cell firing as she took in word after word scrawled on signs and shirts and ads, watching the peculiar social habits of the British. Setsu’s mouth twitched in a half-smile as a little blonde boy shoved an entire chocolate-covered treat into his mouth, making his mom gasp and scold him. 

“Do you want one?” her brother asked, nodding at the boy. He’d somehow noticed her attention despite being the sole navigator and carrying the luggage. She shook her head. He looked down at her, then changed course. 

“Sit,” he said, pointing at their luggage. She rolled her eyes at him and remained standing, her arms crossed over her chest. 

Two minutes later Cain emerged with an entire box of pastries. Setsu left her arms crossed, grumpily refusing to take it from his extended hand. “I said I didn’t want one, nii-san.” 

Cain stared at her. He opened the box. 

Setsu felt her legs start to quiver as the smell of fresh baked dough and warm chocolate drizzle wafted toward her. 

“I don’t want one,” she muttered. “You should have gotten yourself something healthy to eat, not this gigantic box of sweets.”

He carefully picked up the largest sweet, a long pastry covered in chocolate and white drizzle with a small icing rose on one end. She looked at it side-eyed. He dipped his chin and batted his eyes at her, his lower lip pouting slightly as he held the dainty pastry out inches away from her mouth. 

Setsu bit her lip. She could feel herself drooling. 

“Fine. God, you are so spoiled nii-san!” She leaned forward slightly and nipped the rosebud end off the pastry. 

Chocolate and vanilla pastry cream and soft, buttery dough melted in her mouth. Her inner self was dying happily in baker’s ecstasy, trying to force a moan of delight out, but the only external reveal allowed was the exertion of flicking her tongue out to snag the small bit of icing caught on the corner of her mouth. 

Her eyes snapped open in realization of the lapse and she saw her brother, hand still extended, watching her eagerly. His face was full of excitement and pride. It was even cuter than the sad puppy face. Setsu crumpled and took a massive bite, shoving her mouth full of sweet to avoid admitting defeat verbally. 

“S’good,” she said finally. Cain held another pastry out -- strawberry frosted -- but she shook her head. He returned it to the box, pulling a napkin from his pocket and reaching over to softly wipe the very same spot she’d licked earlier. 

“Eclairs,” he said simply. He nestled the box on top of his suitcase to make it easier to carry. She could sense his satisfaction and let it go, winding her arm around his as they resumed their walk. She needed to be more careful where she let her eyes rest or he’d buy all the junk food of London for her. 

The taxi queue was long, but no one moved when Cain stalked straight to the front and opened the door of the first cab, stepping aside to let his sister climb in under his arm. A man started to speak: “I say--” but stopped suddenly, stepping back with a quiet, “By all means,” when Cain’s gaze shifted to his face. 

Setsu chose the bench seat with room for her brother to sit next to her, propping her booted feet up on the backwards-facing single seat in front of her. He climbed in, his legs awkwardly fitting in the back of the cab, and gave the cabbie the hotel name in his gruff voice. 

Cain leaned his head back, his eyes closed but his hand languidly playing with her ponytail. She pulled out her phone, turning it on for the first time since arrival. His eyes shot open when her phone started to ping incessantly, notification after notification pouring through. Setsu felt her eyes widen in panic, trying to silence the phone’s alerts. 

47 missed calls. All from Fuwa Shotaro. 

She’d saved his number after their conversation at Jodogahama. Why had she saved his number! Setsu clicked the red X to dismiss over and over again. She felt her brother’s hand tense, his fingers twined tightly in her ponytail. First the MV video, now this. 

“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” she chanted under her breath. Even she wasn’t sure if she was talking about Sho or herself. 

She felt Cain’s hand slip from her hair. Her eyes shifted to look at him, the rest of her body forcibly still. 

“Call him back.” His voice sounded scratchy, shoved through gritted teeth. 

“What?” Setsu shook her head at Cain in disbelief. “I’m not using my time with you to call that insect.” 

Cain leaned over her, darkening the interior of the cab. “Call him back and make it clear whose you are.” 

Setsu smirked. “Oh.” She ran her thumb over the phone, her mind imagining several ways to demonstrate rather… forcibly. “Not here.” Her eyes flicked to the cabbie. She couldn’t risk Cain’s reaction in public. 

Cain snarled. 

“Call him at the room,” he said stiffly. His eyes turned to her, their edges drawn tight with repressed emotion. “As long as you’re willing to pay the cost.” 

Inner Kyoko was completely wigging out, banging against the walls of her mind in panic, but Setsu purred, setting her phone down as she leaned towards Cain. The thought of her brother releasing his jealousy again, of a power-play between the two of them -- of getting to pull from his depths the emotions of possessiveness and desire and ownership that she so desperately wanted to see every single damn moment of every day… she licked her lips in anticipation. 

“Works for me, nii-san.” 


	90. Phone A Friend

The taxi pulled up in front of a hotel overlooking Hyde Park, its beautiful front calvacaded with turrets and balconies. Their cabbie mumbled their total charge with eyes full of curiosity as he processed Cain's credit card. A red-coated footman opened the door for them, his face impassive.

"Welcome to the Mandarin Oriental," he intoned. A brief courtesy smile played across his face, then was replaced by skepticism as he stood straight beside their luggage, watching her disembark. "Reservations required."

Cain exited, drawing the footman's attention from her. She saw his body language shift. He swallowed tensely, picking up the luggage and turning to lead them into the building. His slightly crouched shoulders and too-fast pace screamed delegation of the sudden problem customers to someone else.

A second and third footman swung the doors wide, fake smiles plastered on faces. Evidently one of them had altered the senior staff. A black-suited concierge accosted them just inside the doors. "Sir and mademoiselle," he said, his voice holding a gentle quaver beneath the platitudes. "We are unfortunately completely booked for ah, the remainder of the week. Large event in the Park, of course. I would be happy to recommend alternate accommodations. The Regency is exceptional, and I have confirmed they have a two bedroom suite available. Please, have a seat. I would be pleased to reserve your cab for you."

Setsu bristled, stepping in front of her brother with her hands on her waist, her mouth open to put the idiot in his place when she felt her brother's hand firm on her shoulder.

"Cain Heel." His voice was deep, but calm.

"Pardon me, sir?"

"My name."

The concierge momentarily froze, then gave a short bow. "Heel-san, ah- your parents-" he bowed again, rising to take their luggage himself. "Please, follow me to your suite. My sincerest apologies for the confusion."

Cain grunted, his eyes cold and furious. The man swallowed hard and turned away, fleeing in front of them to the elevator doors.

The ride to the penthouse was short and entertaining for the siblings, with the ever-shrinking concierge trying to unobtrusively hide himself in the corner of the elevator as Setsu ran her hand up and down her brother's arm to calm him. Even she could feel the delicious waves of black energy radiating off him. The doors opened and the concierge ejected himself, sweeping dramatically to the left with their suitcases in tow. Beads of sweat on his brow proclaimed both his nervousness and his lack of physical stamina from assuming the atypical position of porter.

"The Oriental Penthouse," he proclaimed, the remaining shudder in his voice stealing some of his intended gravity as he swung open the double doors. A vision of leather, velvet, and marble welcomed the travelers as Cain led Setsu into their room. If it could be called a room.

Palace was a better description.

"Nii-san," she said, her voice petulant. "Our hotel room in Tokyo was the size of the couch here. I told you get something simple. This is too much space." She refused to move from the doorway; inner Kyoko was terrified of dirtying something.

"Father booked it."

Setsu closed her eyes, her fingers massaging the bridge of her nose.

"Why…" she intoned. "Did you ever let _him_ be the one to choose our room?"

Cain turned to look at her and shrugged. "Easier."

The concierge coughed behind them. "Is… everything to your satisfaction?"

Cain nodded. Setsu turned and stared at the man, her eyebrow cocked.

"Ah, yes, then, I will see myself out." Cain threw an envelope at him. "Th-thank you, sir," he said, catching it mid-bow.

"Good man," Cain said, his voice mockingly British.

Setsu stifled a laugh and walked over to her brother, winding her arms around him as the doors closed, shutting them into their own private - and excessively opulent - world. Cain looked out the floor-to-ceiling window across the lush park.

"Time for a nap," he mumbled, pulling her over to the sofa. She hummed in agreement as he pulled her down to lay on top of him. One arm wrapped around her back; a long leg draped over the side of the couch while his other hooked overtop hers, pinning her in place.

Setsu lay her chin down on her brother's broad chest, her finger tracing over the ridge of his collarbone. He grunted, shifting his hips under her. He pushed her head down gently, forcing her to rest fully against him. His chest was so firm, so warm. She fit perfectly in the curve of his torso. She closed her eyes, letting herself drift peacefully.

Her phone rang.

She could feel his entire body go rigid. Setsu squeezed her eyes shut.

The ringing filled the penthouse with incessant, painful interruption.

"Answer it." His voice was almost painfully gruff.

"But I just want to spend time with you," she whined, her face pressed against his chest.

"He won't stop." Cain's hand reached over and grabbed her phone from her bag where it lay on the table. "Answer it, and I'll make it very clear to him," he paused, his eyes stormy, "and to you… whose you are."

She took the phone from him, mesmerized by the look in his eyes. His hands pressed hot against her back. The ringing stopped; a thirty-second silence ensued. The phone rang again.

Setsu answered. "What."

"Kyoko! Shit, finally! I know why you kick my shins!"

"What on earth—"

"F*ing irritating bastard, never listens, just wants to argue!"

"What's with this new self-awareness, Shotaro?" Cain's hand started to rub gentle circles over her lower back, drawing a smile from her at the pressure delicately easing her tense muscles.

"No, not me, God Kyoko— him! He's totally taking it all for granted. Forget the shin, I'm gonna kick him in his balls!"

She laughed, stifling it when she saw Cain's glare. His fingers slipped up under her shirt slightly without ceasing their circular motions. He nodded at her silently. She drew a deeper breath than usual as she replied to Sho with her true feelings, letting Setsu go momentarily.

"That is exactly how I felt about you."

"What— no, stop making this about me—"

"Sho, I don't know what you're talking about but it sure sounds like you." Cain's hand inched up higher, baring more of her back. "Irritating bastard, never listens, always about himself, takes it all for granted— one hundred percent that's you and why I left you." He raised his head and pressed a kiss on her cheek, his lips fever-hot against her skin. She sighed in bliss.

"I left you, idiot."

"Sure, sure," She rolled her eyes, then closed them tightly as Cain's lips found her earlobe. "This is an international call, I can't talk much longer. Did you need something or did you just call in a fit of insanity?"

"F* it Kyoko— wait, international? Where are you?"

Cain started to gently suck on her ear, making it very difficult for her to speak normally. She had to swallow a moan as his tongue flicked over the sensitive spot behind her ear. "None of your business. I'm hanging up."

"Kyoko, no, wait— I need—"

The line fell silent.

Cain's hands slipped under the back of her bra, his tongue sliding in circles over her neck. She hummed quietly to herself to release some of her tension, her hips squirming with the effort of self-control. "Thirty seconds, Shotaro."

"I— why—" he groaned loudly, making her frown in puzzlement. "Was it worth it?"

"What?" Her voice was breathless now. Cain unhooked her bra strap, his hands pushing sideways around her back, his fingers riding around her rib cage to graze the very side of her chest. She gasped at the contact, biting her lip.

"Any of what we had."

She froze, shocked out of the beautiful sensations Cain was evoking by Sho's words. "No."

Cain's hands paused. So did she. She bent her head and nipped Cain's collarbone before continuing. "And yes. I wouldn't be where I am now— who I am now— if I hadn't idiotically followed you. But… I gave up too much of myself to do it. I'll never stop regretting that." She felt Cain's hands start to move again, rubbing up and down her back, massaging away her tension again. "But regret is something you can learn from."

She smiled up at Cain and saw his eyes studying her, full of love. "Kuon…" she whispered, recognizing the look.

"If…" Sho's voice cracked slightly on the single syllable. "If there's someone I want— but they don't want me like I am—"

She sighed. Giving Sho advice for his latest E-cup conquest was the last thing she wanted to do. But he sounded like an insecure little brother, and something in his tone triggered her concern. Kuon's hands pressed more urgently, his nails digging into her skin slightly as he ran them up and down, around to the side and back to her shoulder blades. He bent his head again, kissing her on her temple.

Yes— Sho was an insecure, stupid little brother with extremely inconvenient timing for meaningful conversation. Kuon's fingers raked ever closer to the side of her breast as his lips traced down her jawline. It was time for this phone call to end. "Sho, you're a grade-A ass. You do need to change."

She heard Sho start to protest and cut him off. "But not for someone else. For yourself. I changed everything about myself to try and make you love me, and it just left both of us emptier than ever."

Kuon pulled her higher suddenly, his face nuzzled in the center of her chest, nipping her gently with his lips and making it hard to focus. Sho stayed silent, so she struggled to continue without moaning.

"I'm going now," she said, "and I don't want you to call me again. But remember what I said — changing for you left me emptier than when I started. If this person you think you want doesn't love you, won't walk beside you as you grow into who you should be— leave."

She heard him repeat the word _leave_ softly.

"Goodbye Sho," she said, turning her full attention where it belonged.

Kuon ripped the phone out of her hands and threw it across the room, grabbing her around the back of her head and forcing her down into his kiss. A loud, desperate moan ripped from his chest as his tongue dove inside her mouth. She let her hands roam over his body, pulling his shirt open, tracing over his muscles, raking her nails down his chest as she kissed him back. She could hear herself pant and let loose, crying out with everything she'd repressed on the phone.

His hands grabbed her hips and forced her down against him, her legs spread wide. She gasped at the new sensation and pulled back from their kiss.

"Not— what a brother— should—" she tried to gasp out, her hand weakly pushing on his grip.

He growled, kissing her neck roughly, his hands thrusting her hips down and forward again. "I'm not your brother, Kyoko."

"Kuon—" she breathed, her hands gripping his shoulders.

He pulled back, looking in her eyes. He apparently found the sign he wanted, pushing them both up and standing with her in his arms, kicking open the door to the single bedroom.

He lay her tenderly on the bed, crawling over her to cover her. He filled her vision. Dark bangs hung down across his face but his eyes beneath were clear and focused.

"We play them… as obsessed with one another." He paused to brush her hair off her face, then shifted his direction and gently slid off her wig. "But it's not all an act for me." His fingers threaded into her short auburn hair, massaging her scalp. "I need you just as much as he needs Setsu. More. She's his sister."

His kiss was tender but full of need; he pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead on hers as he continued. "You… are my life."

Kyoko wound her arms around him, drawing him down against her. She buried her face in his neck, kissing him shyly. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, his words burrowing deep inside her.

"I love you..." she whispered into his ear.

She felt him shudder. She kissed him more confidently, her lips exploring his smooth skin. "I love you," she repeated. She wound her fingers in his thick hair, reveling in the sensation of being surrounded by him.

He suddenly rolled with her, pulling her over on top of him. She laughed as everything tilted. His eyes were bright and anxious as he examined her, his fingertips running like a blind man's over her face, brushing over every feature for memory.

Once more. "I love you… Kuon."

He broke into a brilliant grin and pulled her into his arms, kissing her over and over, his joy poured into every single touch. She laughed, the sound rising and mixing with his deeper, richer chuckle. Kyoko nestled herself into his embrace, snuggling under his arms wrapped loosely around her back. He calmed beneath her and sighed, the exhale filled with contentment.

The room was quiet and still, emphasizing her awareness that the room was theirs and theirs alone. She could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. His skin was bare beneath her cheek, the cut of his ragged shirt lower even than usual. The feeling of his smooth skin on hers made her intensely aware of her position, of her legs covered only by ripped stockings and indescribably tiny shorts, her midriff exposed partially by the corset top. His forearms criss-crossed over her bare back, their touch suddenly seeming searing hot like a brand.

Kyoko's heart started to hammer. This was so different from their last time sharing a room as siblings. There had been so many misunderstandings; so much distance between them. She traced her finger over the edge of his shirt, fiddling with the fabric. She hadn't even known the source of his struggles, though looking back now it was clear Kuon's history had shaped his darkness as Cain.

Cain was now dark only by choice, and never with her. Kuon was free. Kuon was hers. She smiled softly, biting her lip. His hands started to move slowly over her back again, retracing their earlier route. She felt his breath hitch as he came to her unhitched bra strap and paused, fingering the hooks.

Kyoko propped her head up on her arms and studied him playfully. He smiled sheepishly, moving his hand back down.

"Sorry…" he said, his voice almost as quiet as a whisper.

Kyoko rubbed her lips together. She was a little nervous, to be sure. But she felt warm, and peaceful.

"Don't apologize," she said, her eyes turned away bashfully. His chest grew beneath her as he drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"Don't…?"

She blushed, sure she was red as a tomato. Did he really need her to be more clear? She shook her head slowly, then reached up and untied the bow to her corset herself. Kuon exhaled in a rush. He pulled her against him, flattening her.

"Kyoko—"

"I'm sure," she said, her voice still muted.

He guided her face forward with just a few fingers, his eyes shining yet unsure as he studied her expression. She blushed hotter, if possible, and nodded. His fingers moved in a sudden feverish rush, stripping the rest of the ribbon from her corset hooks as if afraid the moment would end before he could finish. The ends ripped free and her shirt suddenly slipped sideways, her back completely bare. She squeaked, pressing against him to prevent the front coming off.

His movements slowed, his fingers lightly touching her skin, his eyes closing as he ran his fingertips up and down her spine.

"If you really do want this, I promise I will cherish you," he whispered. She looked at his face. "Not just tonight," he continued, his eyes opening to capture hers. They were full of ache. Of a desperate need to convey everything he felt for her. "For the rest of my life."

He kissed her gently. "If you don't want this…" he paused, brushing his lips tenderly over hers. "I also promise to cherish you tonight- and for the rest of my life."

She growled and pushed herself up to claim his lips in a kiss, her top falling off between them with the motion. She felt the rush of cool air mix intoxicatingly against her suddenly overheated skin as she kissed him again, more deeply, her lips pressing into his, trying to show him how certain she was.

"Make me yours, Kuon," she spoke against his lips, her voice clear and firm. He groaned and pulled her into tight against him, his kisses falling feverishly across her skin. "Tonight," she said, breathless. "Tomorrow—" His kisses continued, over and around her lips as she spoke. "Always."


	91. First Time

His lips fell lower, brushing over the upper swell of her breasts. She gasped, tensing already at the new sensations. He paused, his hands rubbing circles on her lower back.

"Can I…?" His question was quietly spoken, but no less full of passion for the low volume. She could feel his hands shaking where they lay. Her own were shaking, her body echoing his need and adrenaline.

She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. His mouth opened slowly, hesitating just above her skin before gently latching on to the bare skin of her mound in the exact place he'd desired so long ago as Cain. He sucked, drawing moans from both of their mouths as he captured the sweetness of her skin. Over and over again his mouth caressed her skin there, heat radiating out from his mouth to fill her entire body. She couldn't hold her head up; her focus had shifted entirely to that single spot and the feeling of his lips and teeth and tongue. He broke the kiss; his tongue smoothed over the tender ache. He moaned again, then gripped her waist and shoved her higher, his lips sealing themselves around her nipple and drawing forth a sharp cry from her lips.

"Ahn- Kuon!" she cried, her nails scraping his shoulders as her back arched, pulling away and pressing tighter into him at the same time. He was feasting on her; his tongue and mouth moving ceaselessly, hungrily, nipping and sucking.

She pressed forward against him instinctively, her body trying to find a way to work out the sensations he was creating. Her movement pushed her hips down against his chest, her tight shorts rubbing against a newly sensitive center. She gasped, wanting more. He pulled back on her breast, moving quickly to the other as she started to slowly rub herself against his core.

"Kuon," she panted, "this— unh…" She rolled her neck, her hips starting to thrust more eagerly against him, his tongue matching her rhythm as it swirled around her nipple. His hands shifted to rest on her butt, not pushing or pulling, just feeling and guiding her movements as she rocked.

He licked between her breasts, kissing her breastbone as she felt deep heat start to flower inside her center already. His hands shifted, pushing her up and away from the contact she craved. She moaned in protest, squirming, but he shushed her. "Let me," he said, his voice heated.

His hands skillfully undid her buckle and buttons and shoved her shorts down, low, off her slender legs. She braced herself above him, her legs shaking slightly with the effort of restraint. His large hands slid all the way back up her legs, his fingers caressing every dip and rise of her curves until he reached the apex of her thighs. There they spread, only the tips running along her sex as the rest crested over her hips, joining together again at her navel. Kyoko held her breath. "Again," she whispered, then bit her lip in surprise at her forwardness. Kuon exhaled, his hands retracing their path down, brushing the edge of her mound to curve around on the back of her thighs. Kyoko moaned, rocking in midair. "Again."

He slid his hands around first, then higher, slowly, achingly slowly, until she felt his fingers brush fully over her mound, covered only by black lacy underwear. She gasped and he stopped, his hand laying gently over her. She wanted more and ground her hips into his palm, rubbing herself against him. Kuon's head dipped to reclaim her breast with his mouth as his fingers slid inside her panties, pushing them down, just barely dipping inside her slit as he pushed them over her thighs and off. She cried out at the slight contact. "More!" Kyoko could only manage the one word, the one thought. "More…"

His fingers found her again and spread her lower lips, making her shudder in pleasure. She could feel herself slick against his fingers as they slid up and down, pausing each time to press gently on her apex, a small spot perfectly alive to his touch. She bucked her hips up, spreading her legs, making more room without thinking. His thumb pressed on her clit, rolling over and around as his fingers pushed inside her. She gasped; never imagining the strangeness and beauty of feeling another person in her depths. He pressed farther inside, his long finger stroking her inner wall. She was frozen, waiting, her breath coming hot and fast but everything else unbearably slow.

He bit her nipple, the force making her jerk; her hips bucked down over his finger with his movement. She cried out and he pressed another finger inside with the first, his eyes tightly shut and chest heaving with the effort of control as he started to pump his fingers into her. His hips moved in slight echo, a rise and fall she could feel against her own legs. She moaned his name and dipped her head, her lips hungrily seeking his skin. Her moans grew faster, sharper, as his fingers thrust into her. She threw her need into her kiss, tugging and sucking on his muscled shoulder as her hips thrust against his hand. He shifted his fingers forward and up inside her and she cried out, waves of heat pouring through her.

"Kyoko-" he gasped, his fingers slipping from her. She felt fulfilled and yet empty, her mind spinning as she struggled to hold herself up above him. He crushed her to himself, pulling her into his kiss. Their tongues twined together, still searching for greater depth. Kyoko felt her heart still hammering, her body still hot from the climax, but her first release did nothing to stop the heat from returning as he let his own passion pour into his kiss. Again and again his lips sought hers, both of them gasping for breath as he held her tight. She shifted her legs, starting to roll off him, to give him space to breathe, and her thigh brushed over his hips. He cried out, finally breaking the kiss, his eyes shut tight. She stopped, startled. His hands shifted down, squeezing her butt as he softly mimicked her earlier plea in an urgent whisper. "Again…"

She was fascinated. Kyoko drew her leg back across his center. He threw his head back, his tendons standing out as she pressed gently against the hardness beneath her. She exhaled silently, her mouth open in wonder. She shifted her body down, her hands quickly working to undo the simple ties of his leather pants, pushing them down, wanting to see the part of him that was causing his painful need— the part she always knew was there, but had never truly seen. Never experienced.

He almost whimpered as his hard length sprang free of the tight leather and briefs. Her eyes widened as she took him in, her hand hovering just above his length. He opened his eyes and whispered her name, drawing her attention back to him. "Kyoko," he said. His voice was rough, almost dark, but she could tell he was trying to hold back. Trying to be gentle.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, her hand still hovering above him.

He nodded as he spoke, "No." She gasped out a laugh, letting the tips of her fingers graze over him as she watched his expression. He flinched, biting his lip. She pressed down, running her fingers slowly down his length. His back arched, pushing up against her, mouth open with need.

"What do I do?" she asked quietly. "I want to learn." She licked her lips in nervous anticipation. She badly wanted to do this well for him.

"Make it— wet—" he said tersely, his hand flexing and releasing as she played her fingertips up then down, feeling his taut skin. She licked her lips again as she twisted her wrist to touch herself, knowing instinctively a source of his need. Dipping her fingers in her own wetness, she circled his tip, smoothing the liquid down his shaft. He started to grunt, his hips pushing up into her grip. She wanted more wetness; more slip as she ran her hand up and down him.

Kyoko's eye lit as she thought of a new way. She felt her limbs tremble in anticipation and braced herself over him, the slightest hesitation pausing her before she reached down to spread her folds and sank against his length. She gasped; his breath gushed out in a long, tight hiss between his teeth as he arched his back up. Their eyes opened, locking deep into one another as she slid herself up his erection.

"Ahhh," she moaned. The feeling— heat and firmness and pressure all along her, rubbing hard and tight against her clit. So much more than his fingers had been. She started to move, almost involuntarily, seeking more contact, more touch, more heat. He felt so good— her body felt like it was humming— she slid more rapidly; heat unfurling within her. His tip grazed her entrance and slid just inside. She froze. The new depth and possibility made her shudder. Her hands clenched on his shoulders; her body waiting, held taut, captured by the feeling of him held just within her.

Suddenly Kuon sat up beneath her, lifting her up and twining her legs around his back in full-body sitting embrace. She felt his hard length shift with their bodies, pulling out as he moved his hips back, then pressing tighter up and along her slit. He bent forward and kissed her tenderly, his breath hot as it rushed over her lips.

"Kyoko," he whispered, bending forward to rest his forehead against hers. "Are you sure?"

Every single nerve was on fire. She tried to force herself to breathe deeply; to think clearly; to come out of the haze of lust and need. "I want…" she paused, bracing her head against his shoulder. With each breath taken their bodies moved against one another intimately, threatening her ability to speak. "...all of you."

Kuon lifted her chin and kissed her deeply. "You don't have to do this to have me," he whispered, his voice rough.

Kyoko felt frustration grow within her and growled, pulling down on his shoulders and biting his neck — _hard, like Setsu!_ She shifted forward and down to the sound of his cry of shock then before he could stop her pushed his length deep inside. She cried out, her head thrown back at the sudden intense filling. His throaty shout melded with and overwhelmed hers, his hands instinctively pulling up on her hips but she shook her head, pressing down.

"All of you," she said, the words more of a groan than a sentence. She was filled — her hands shook, her heart pounding at the indescribable feeling of _him_ deep, deep inside her. His body reaching where before only his heart had. His presence filling her body like he'd filled her mind.

He moaned, his mouth hungrily searching, kissing her skin feverishly but the rest of his body achingly still. She felt her grip lose its tension; her hands relax as his lips heated her forehead, temples, cheeks, ears, mouth— until he shifted beneath her and she felt it through her core. She arched backwards, her head jerking away from his kisses.

Kuon stilled immediately, his eyes drawn tight with the effort of self-control. "Kyoko…" he asked, her name both a question and a declaration. She could feel his stare, hot and focused, trying to see through her.

"Move," she whispered, unable to open her eyes. _Move…_ His hips stayed still. She felt herself coming undone. His length buried deep inside her, still and hot, was making her body tremble. Their bodies were clasped together, her legs wrapped around his waist, his arms circling her, his sweat on her chest - and it was not enough. She needed him to move like she needed her next breath.

She cried out in frustration and raised her own hips, taking control. Kuon gasped, his hands raking down her back. She started to rock, her hands tight on his skin, her breath coming fast and hot as the feeling of his presence filled her over and over again. Kyoko felt a primal joy rising in her, each thrust screaming through their bodies that he was hers; they were known; they were _wanted_.

His kisses and hands covered her skin, growing more desperate and less predictable as he lost control beneath her touch. His hips started to buck up into her, deeper than she'd reached, jolting her deliciously out of rhythm. She felt his large hands lift her at the waist, controlling her rise and fall, matching his movements. Their voices melded, crying out with each joining— grew urgent, harsher; his hands slamming her into him.

"Kyoko— God—" he moaned, driving her over the edge as he pressed her against his chest, her legs tight around his waist, their bodies fully alive and fully joined as Kyoko climaxed over him. Kuon shuddered and pulled out with his own cry to join her in ecstasy before she could think clearly.

She sank into him. His arms relaxed, draping around her in a gentle hug as their tremors subsided. She kissed his shoulder almost shyly, her fingertips tracing the faint red marks from her bite. She could feel him beneath her as a potent reminder of everything. It made her tremble. Slowly, their heart rates calmed. Slowly, their panting breaths became smiles. Slowly, the world fell back to reality. Kyoko smiled. A more colorful reality; like the Corn stone held up to the light, shimmering and overflowing with magic. She bit her lip, relishing her own sappiness and the feel of her fairy prince surrounding her.

The prince was hers. She blinked away the sudden tears threatening to rise at the awareness that beyond all expectations and reason and twists of fate somehow the two of them had still arrived here, in one another's arms. Was this how the princesses in her storybooks felt?

Kuon wrapped his arms around her and fell backwards onto the bed. She squealed, bonking her head on his shoulder. Squirming to work her way out of his arms, Kyoko whacked him playfully when he grabbed her butt and pushed her up higher on his torso, pushing her head down to nuzzle between his cheek and shoulder. "No moving," he said softly. "Mine."

She huffed, poking him in protest. "Nii-san…" she playfully whined.

Kuon shook his head. "No nii-sans here."

Kyoko smiled, tracing her fingers over his shoulder, relaxing completely into his embrace.

"Good," he said, a completely satisfied grin on his face. "So good."

The pair fell into silence, Kyoko watching the beat of his heart against his skin as she lay on his shoulder. Proof he was real. She touched the spot on his skin gently, feeling the press of his lifeblood thrum on her fingertip.

"I love you," she whispered. Kuon hummed, squeezing her tight.

"I know."


	92. Meet the Parents

Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard the lock on the front door to their suite click open. She stretched languidly, nuzzling down into the crook of his arm and chest. His body was warm against hers, the intimacy of the night before still echoing through her veins with every brush of skin.

"Did you order room service, love?" she whispered, running her fingers across his smooth muscles.

"Mmmm?" he questioned sleepily. "Service?"

Their bedroom door slammed open. Kyoko yelped, flying upright in the bed with the comforter clutched around her.

"Darlings!"

"Our beautiful children!"

Sunlight flooded the room, blinding Kyoko. She gripped the blankets tighter around her, encountering unexpected resistance. Kuon had rolled himself up into a sausage of blankets, buried against the cacophony. "Kuon!" she whispered urgently.

"Kuon? Dear one, if that is anyone other than your brother Cain under those sheets—" the speaker stalked over to the side of the bed and Kyoko gasped.

"Hizuri-san!" She clapped her hand over her mouth, one hand still clutching the comforter like a life preserver, her eyes darting from his face to that of the beautiful woman in a designer dress standing by his side.

"Father," he said, drawing the word out.

"F-fa—" Kyoko stuttered.

"Setsuka, lovely," the woman— Hizuri Julie?— cooed as she drew to the side of the bed. "What have you done to your hair?" She turned to Kuu and shooed him out, following him. "Both of you, get dressed, then come join us in the living room for breakfast. Dear, call room service."

Kuon rolled out of bed, pulling the covers with him. Kyoko yelped as her soft armor disappeared. "Ku- _On_!"

He turned to look at her, mirth filling his eyes.

"...meet my parents?" he said, grinning sheepishly. He shrugged beneath the blankets and she growled, throwing a pillow at his face with every ounce of her strength. Kuon ducked, then nodded at the bathroom, gesturing for her to take her time without losing his silly grin. He shuffled out of the room still wrapped in nothing but the giant comforter.

Kyoko threw another pillow, hitting the door as it shut behind him. She heard Kuu and Julie's muffled exclamations of joy at seeing Kuon— Cain? Kuon. She shook her head, confused.

First things first. Kyoko scrambled out of bed and flew into the bathroom. She tried to shower slowly to give the Hizuris as much time as possible to reunite. Maybe even to get bored and come back later. She gritted her teeth as she blow dried her hair then secured the long, bleached wig on top. Setsu's makeup followed: dark pink eyeshadow with gunmetal glitter and dramatic liner. Kyoko still squealed inside every time she got to apply the beautiful set, even today. She wrapped her towel around her and strode over to their luggage.

Clothing. She worried at her lip. It was all so terribly… Setsuka. Her boyfriend's parents sat in the other room after walking in on them. Kyoko moaned, sinking to her knees. Walking in on them _naked_! She thrashed back and forth silently, Setsu's hair whipping her in the face. She was sure steam was pouring from her ears; it definitely felt like her head was about to explode.

Kyoko peeked from between her fingers to face facts and look at her red-faced self in the mirror.

Setsu peeked back at her from under pink-streaked bangs.

Kyoko's mind cleared.

Setsu. Of course she'd be snuggled indecently with her brother. Of course she'd wear very little to sleep. Of course her parents wouldn't mind— wait.

Back-up.

Kyoko frowned. Of course the parents _would_ mind. What sane parents would consent knowingly to such a relationship between their children?

The sounds of ecstatic gibberish floated through the heavy doorway to her. Kyoko closed her eyes.

Setsu opened her eyes with a smirk. _Hers_ would consent.

She stood and pulled on her favorite miniskirt and low-cut top, securing her hair with a few clips before turning and striding out of the room to see mom and dad.

Dad stood behind the couch, his figure perfectly framed by a tailored gray R. Mandy suit. He looked up as Setsu emerged, his face instantly transformed by pure glee.

"Most beautiful daughter!" he exclaimed, pushing off the back of the couch to race around and pull her into a bone-crushing hug. Setsu winced, her fingers crooked against the sudden chiropractic procedure. Once she could breathe again she found herself smiling— as widely as Setsu smiled, at least— and gently patting Father's back.

"It's been a while, dad," she said. Her gaze shifted to Julie sitting gracefully on the couch in her deceivingly simply cut cream-colored dress, ankles crossed demurely. "Mom," she said, waving her fingers.

"Don't _mom_ me," Julie scolded, thumping the empty seat next to her. Cain occupied the entire second couch, still wrapped like a sausage but prone now, his blanketed legs draped over the elegantly scrolled armrest negligently. He appeared to have fallen back asleep.

Setsu rolled her eyes while Kyoko internally scrambled, trying to process ways to interact normally with a _mother_. She'd only played characters with absent or dysfunctional mothers. But one of the President's dramas he'd forced the LoveMe section to watch scripted mother and daughter as more like friends than relatives. Chiori had commented jealously on their relationship. Kyoko seized on the fragment.

Setsu jerked her head at the form of her father, still tightly wrapped around her. _Do something_ , she mouthed to Julie.

Julie smirked. "Dear, you're suffocating our daughter with love. Cease and desist." Kuu moaned, snuggling in but finally released her when Julie cleared her throat.

Setsu made a show of brushing herself off, then threw a sly smile at her dad as she walked over to sit beside Julie.

Her mom gracefully hugged her, the touch genuinely warm and comforting. Setsu wanted to sink into it but held herself slightly apart. "Missed you," she managed.

"Setsu, dearest, I know you love Cain but do think of me as well. Managing your father gets so tiresome alone. And just this past weekend we had to negotiate a plea bargain _and_ a bribe, on top of that Singapore contract." She rolled her eyes at Setsu dramatically, mirroring Setsu's earlier expression perfectly. "Can you even imagine how much coddling he required?"

Setsu grinned and shook her head. "Or how much food. Mom, why can't nii-san at least learn how to eat from dad? He is so difficult!" Setsu pretended to pout, then stood up and walked over to plop herself directly on top of Cain, forcing all the air out of his chest in a whoosh. Julie laughed, standing and drawing Setsu up into a true hug as Cain coughed under his mummy-wrap below.

Julie stood back and fingered the fringe on Setsu's top with a sigh. "Sweetling, you are the most beautiful girl on the planet." Kuu nodded enthusiastically, his eyes alight. "Must you display everything to everyone?" Kuu's eyebrows rose at his wife's comment. Setsu narrowed her eyes at her mother, ready for a fight.

"Dearest, Setsu looks gorgeous," Kuu began.

"Cain likes it-" Setsu started.

"Yes, no one is arguing you look fantastic," Julie said, dropping the fringe. "But it makes your beauty so obvious!" Cain finally moved, sticking just his fist out and popping his mother a thumbs-up sign. "See, even your darling brother agrees. The best tactic is to leave men with something for the imagination. Leave them wanting more - craving more. How are we supposed to catch you a lord while we're in England if you dress like anyone will do?"

Cain's thumb flipped in a dramatic and forceful thumbs down, his hand shaking furiously at their mother.

"Mooooooom," Setsu moaned. "I don't want some cock-eyed lord, I have brother. I've told you before." She glared at her mother, sitting back down on Cain's back with a plop. "Cain is mine."

"Yes, yes," Julie patted her head and the blob of comforter that concealed Cain. Setsu could feel him shaking beneath her and was thankful he'd chosen to let her handle this distasteful discussion. What had gotten into her mother? Julie continued, walking over to sit on her couch again. "We all know your brother is the most amazing piece of man flesh to ever grace this earth- dearest, calm down, aside from you of course- but it is your responsibility to marry to bring in better connections for the family business."

Setsu threw her arms out wide, her features roiling with disgust. Julie eyed her, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Hush, dearest, listen. I only said marry, not fall in love. Lord Balthuman has excellent links the Thai cocaine rings and a long-standing success in negotiations with the Youngs' opium business in Singapore. It would be quite the substantial addition to our portfolio."

Kuu's shouts overwhelmed even Setsu's at her declaration, as the two blondes fought to make their protests to mother's plans the most vehement. Setsu stood, striding over to her mother's side, her face red with anger. Kuu leaned over the couch, then flung himself backwards dramatically, stomping around the room gesticulating and shouting about the injustices of it all. Setsu leaned in close to her mother, staring her down, demanding she back off from the plan. Just when she saw a twinkle in her mother's eyes that made her suspicious, Kuu made it to Cain's side and grabbed the corner of the comforter, ripping it dramatically out from around him and dumping him gracelessly onto the floor in the process.

"Woman, behold your son!" Kuu yelled. "Steal his love at your peril!"

Cain blinked, then flushed bright red. He was sprawled on the floor in front of everyone - stark naked.

"Now, dearest," Julie said, her voice soft, her eyes still locked with Setsu's. Kuu still held the blanket aloft dramatically. "We both know the only reason they can't marry each other is that outdated American law. It's the entire reason why we are backing Senator Palpatine for his 2024 election bid. His revisions in California have done wonders, making in a wonderfully enlightened place. Isn't that so, son?" She finally turned to look at Cain, frozen in shock on the floor. "Oh my, you've grown."

Setsu felt her eyes roll back in her head as Kyoko's brain malfunctioned. Blink. Blink. Blink. System rebooting. Hearing came back online first to the muffled sounds of continued conversation between Kuu and Julie. "...until then we must keep up appearances."

Vision came back, dark around the edges at first. Kuu was waving a pair of leather trousers in front of Cain, who grabbed them and started shoving his legs inside. "...an engagement to Lord Balthuman would do nicely for our East Asian influence and their privacy."

Gross motor skills were next. Setsu shook her head, twisting to plop on the couch. "...but when we break it off? Even worse!" Kuu complained.

Fine motor skills. Setsu blinked, her eyes following Kuu and Julie as they started to wander off, still deep in discussion. "Children, join us for breakfast downstairs once you're fully dressed. Dearest, I have complete trust that you would be able to use a short six-week engagement to undermine his operation and assume control. It only took you five for the Columbian syndicate."

"Yes, my queen, but Cain was there personally for Columbia. We've allowed him to galavant around filming nonsense this time. To think he flaunts all his martial experience on film as that BJ character!"

"Oh, I know, love - a knight in shining armor; far closer to the truth. Ten minutes, loves, don't let the omelettes grow cold!"

The door shut behind them.

Setsu and Cain looked at each other.

Exhaled.

Inhaled.

Burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Welcome home, nii-san," she said, sinking into his lap on the floor. "Welcome home…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I laughed so hard writing this, I hope you enjoyed reading it at least a little bit as much as I enjoyed writing it. Crime lord Hizuris! Bahahaha! Ch dedicated to kaname671 in revenge for her cock-blocking parents in the last ch of NMMNG grrrrr! Have a wonderful day everyone!


	93. Legen-- Wait for It-- Dary

"Leave."

Their voices blended together, hers confident and clear, his rough and sleep-deprived. Both far too calm to be thinking they had any business telling him what to do with his life.

Leave.

Sho wrinkled his nose in distaste, tossing the phone on the bed. As if there was anything worth leaving. Couldn't even be called a friendship. More a pudding-dependency. He ran his fingers through his hair, slumping onto the edge of the bed.

"Make my own way," he mumbled. He lay back on the bed, the ceiling vacant above him. No stars of any kind, just… white space.

Sho licked his lips. "Leave," he said, feeling the way the word rolled thick off his tongue like cold syrup. He grabbed blindly for his phone, holding it up to text Shoko.

—Recording deal for NYC still up for nego?—

They'd offered several weeks ago; he'd ignored them. The best labels recorded in L.A.- New York City was for stage acts and comedians. Now, though, it was more tempting. A fast way out to the city that never slept. A fast way out period.

"Leave!"

Sho felt laughter bubble up inside. They probably expected him to mope around Tokyo waiting on a summons. Or run home to Kyoto. He'd show them both by being the first to make it big abroad. Sho let the phone thump on his chest. It buzzed almost immediately; Sho grabbed it and rolled over onto his stomach to read her reply.

—They resent it right after Chocolate released. Did you see # of hits? Viral!—

Sho licked his lips again. He should be pleased. Viral was always a good word. He should be pleased. Instead, he felt used. The lyrics were his, but the emotions…

—K.—

—K? That's it? You went viral and it's "K." Are you drinking?—

Sho scoffed. At least in America he'd be drinking legally. —Take the deal—

He turned off his phone, letting it slide out of his hands onto the bed. He stared at it blankly, trying to force a smile on his face. He was going abroad.

"Watch me leave," he said under his breath, laying his head down on the covers. "Try and catch me."

The words were fire and challenge but he just felt tired. Weird way to leave for America.

"America…" Sho rolled over and stretched up towards the ceiling, watching his empty fingers unfurl. "Ahhh… what the crap am I doing?!" He shoved himself upright and stormed out to the kitchen. He needed to write. He needed to find release. He should go out and destroy the town with a wild party! He ripped off his shirt and threw it on the back of the couch, scrubbing the sides of his head angrily.

Fridge was empty. Sho cursed at it, slamming the door shut. He checked the pantry. Instant noodles and shrimp chips. Grinding his teeth, he poured hot water over a cup of noodles and sat it sloppily on the counter, hissing as some of the steaming water spilled on his finger. "Stupid noodles. Stupid noodly-hair bastard. Stupid curly noodly-hair ass face bastard!" Sho roared, knowing he was being irrational but he didn't care. He threw the noodles in the trash, water and all, grabbed a bag of chips and stormed over to the couch.

New York City— laptop Google search. Laughing faces, nightclubs, green statues, high rises, homeless people. Sho closed his laptop and rubbed his eyes. It was 7 a.m. in the morning and he hadn't slept much the past two nights. He had several hours before his first meeting. Sleep.

Sho woke almost nauseous. He had filled his dreams. Dreams of touches and heat, of whispered need, of pressing and ache that left him empty as if a ghost had caressed him, taunting him with promised echoes of solidity.

He shrugged on his jacket to leave for work and finger-combed his hair without bothering to shower, trying to brush it down to cover the shaven sides. At least he knew what his next song was going to be about.

The days flew by. His lyrics and chords for the new single _Dreamer_ had been enthusiastically received by the NY studio and they'd bumped up his recording dates.

He felt itchy, unsettled.

Thursday. He stood in line for airport security. A camera shutter clicked followed by feminine giggles when he slid off his long leather jacket for the metal detector. He'd purposefully chosen the shirt with the dragon's claw stitched along the edge of a ripped hole, his entire back bare. Seemed appropriate.

The guard gestured stoically at his metal-studded boots when he set off the metal detector for the third time. He stepped aside for a full-body pat-down, raising his arms to the side for the guard to sweep gloved hands lightly over his chest and legs. They took a canteen of whisky from his pocket. Sho suggested they search higher, leering at the guard. The guard stood, his eyes hard, and for a moment Sho panicked inside, realizing the consequences of taunting security. The guard nodded to the side dismissively; Sho pulled his jacket out of the bin, free to leave.

Shoko was meeting him there. He'd rushed leaving; she had a crapload of loose ends to tie up to make space for his sudden departure. Two weeks scheduled to record the new album. A weekend to film the MV for the title song. A month to promo it. If Sho played his cards right it could turn into an international tour easily.

Easily for him, at least. Sho leaned against the pillar, lazily swinging his jacket as he watched passersby from beneath the wide brim of his hat. He'd taken care to hide his face; Shoko wanted him to surprise fans with the news of his international breakthrough. The perverse part of him felt like whipping off the dark glasses and hat, ripping his guitar out of its case and giving them a free show.

Sho hefted the guitar over his shoulder as the attendant called for boarding passes. The passengers around him queued promptly; jostling one another for position in line, suitcases sticking out awkwardly in their eagerness to get to the Western Hemisphere. He watched, his feet frozen to the floor. The scene felt surreal, like it was happening to someone else's future.

Leave.

Sho swayed. He fought a sudden impulse to turn and run - out, away, back home, back even to the ryokan, take off the disguise and sit down next to his mother and finally learn how to carve a daikon. Bile rose in his throat. The acrid taste made his lips curl.

The line's last stragglers filtered into the plane. The attendant's attention turned to him.

"Make my own way," he growled, swallowing down his nerves as he shoved off the pole toward the on-ramp.

A ripped boarding pass, thirteen Cokes, one sleep aid and seven partially-watched bad movies later Sho greeted JFK Airport feeling hungover without the high of a night out. He took his hat off and splashed water on his face before walking out to meet the man holding his name on a black and white plaque.

He had two days before his first meeting with the producer, mixer, and band. He should sleep, but sleep meant dreams. The city rose around him, angular and gray in the evening light, a mish-mash of foreign words and bland buildings and colorful people. Sho locked eyes with a beautiful redhead in a leather jacket at the stoplight. She smiled at him. He smiled back— for the first time in days.

He'd left it all behind him. He breathed deep, leaning back on the seat, his fingers flexing and unflexing into fists. A sudden rush of adrenaline swept over him as he realized he was free of whatever insanity had possessed him, making him think there was anything about Fuwa Sho that should bend to another person's nonsense.

"I make the rules," he said excitedly to his hotel room as he flung his bags on the bed. He showered in haste, pulling on a clean pair of leather pants and his favorite mottled-print tee. Leather jacket settled comfortably on top. Sho cracked his neck. He looked damn good.

Concierge pointed him to Mission Nightclub. Two hours til it opened. Sho stood outside a bar down the street, leaning against the wall as he watched crowds pass. He caught snatches of their conversation; each heard and understood English phrase like a fist bump confirming he was in the right place. He ducked inside for a pregame round.

"Whisky," he called to the bartender, raising his hand with a green paper bill held between his fingers. Just like in the movies.

The bartender smiled at him, then eyed his bill.

Sho cocked his head, fluttering the bill again.

"That's a five. Shots are 15."

"Shit, haha," Sho said, stuffing the bill in his pocket. "My bad." He pulled out a blueish bill with a 20 on the corners. The bartender swapped him a shot of amber liquid. Sho inspected the expensive little dram, then shrugged and tossed it back. "Three more!" he yelled, digging out a one hundred dollar bill. His first night in America was going to be legendary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOTARO VS AMURICA how's this gonna go... authorial liberalities taken with why the barkeep dinna card Sho. Let's just say he took pity on the foreigner who has no clue how much good alcohol costs in that part of NYC.
> 
> Poor Kogs. I'm sad for bae. But he doesn't know Sho left yet so he's still— well, what is he? Does he even care Sho left?
> 
> CONUNDRUMS. I am in a moooooood! SO MUCH AUTHOR'S NOTE. Haha!
> 
> What's next? More Shotaro, or Heels?


	94. Runaway

The smooth skin of their bare shoulders felt good under his hands. His grin was wild, his fingers twisting around long strands of auburn hair on one side and playing with a loose off-shoulder strap on the other. The trio stumbled slightly as they ascended the short staircase to Mission's entrance, drawing a trill of laughter from the girls' lipsticked mouths. Sho had smudges of vibrant pink and red on his cheeks and near his collar.

The bouncer took a brief look at his companions before nodding them inside without checking IDs. Sho wrinkled his nose; such easy access usually meant there were way too many dudes inside. He slid his hand down the brunette's arm, resting it low on her hip as they sauntered inside. The redhead snuggled in tighter, her fingers swirling a pattern on his bicep.

Darkness punched through by purple strobes and pulsing lasers swept over them. The music slammed into his chest, the steady untz of the bass-line making his ribcage vibrate. He preferred hip-hop for dancing, but the way the girls' bodies pressed up against him as they started bouncing to the heady beat swayed his opinion for the night.

They were both giggling as they danced, leaning forward and back around him to chat with one another in Thai. His knowledge of Thai was worse than his English, but the cadence was soothing. Each time they leaned one way the red-head would cling a little tighter, slowly wrapping herself around his waist. Sho smirked. She was definitely pressing her chest against him on purpose.

It felt good. A woman's touch was soft and warm, playful. Dropping hints about his studio deal when they were in earshot had been the right idea. They didn't even know what his music sounded like and still wanted in his pants — getting laid his first night in New York was officially the goal line. One of the girls pointed at the bar and Sho led them through the crowd. He ordered a round of shots for their threesome, then another. The music shifted faster and the two girls squealed, pulling each other out onto the floor. They beckoned for Sho.

He raised a shot to them, smiling. "View's better from here!" That sent them into hysterics. Damn, he was on tonight. The girls danced with each other, each sending him flirtatious glances.

They were cute. It was almost too easy. He scanned the crowd. Faces lit up then faded back into darkness as the lasers strafed the throbbing dance floor. A man jostled him, pushing for a place at the bar. The girls held their hands out, calling for him to come dance.

He wasn't ready to commit. They were cute. He wanted more. He wanted a hunt. Someone to make his blood run hot— that made him want to undress them there, on the dance floor. Make him lose his mind. His head felt thick, heavy; too much alcohol already? The strobes flickered in his vision. He blinked, shook his head. Dancing would help. He scanned the crowd, looking for a partner; already forgetting about the girls. There— his eyes lit on the mass of short, dark curls lit by the flashes of light. Near the front.

Sho felt his body start to hum. He barely registered the girls' surprise as he walked past them, pushing gently on backs and shoulders to thread his way through the crowd. The music grew louder, his heart thumping in his chest in time with the wild beat.

His hands shook as the paces between them shortened. People danced and wove into his path. He twisted around each interruption, heart hammering. Mustn't lose sight. Another strobe flickered over the group ahead, brightening with a flash and illuminating the face beneath the curls. A face he didn't know twisting with the dance, his too-wide mouth set in a smile above a jaw with all the wrong angles.

Sho stopped, his heart in throat, his head spinning. The music's throbbing grew unbearable, forcing its way into the corners of his consciousness. Every hammering beat mocking his hopeful dash. As if he'd be there.

"Idiot," he cursed at himself. He'd been staying up too late ever since he wrote Dreamer. The first verse echoed in his mind. He shoved his way roughly back through the crowd.

_Ghost-like you haunt me_

_More real in my dreams_

_Than the world around me_

_I wake_

_You're empty_

_Who's the wraith now— you or me?_

Thegirls had moved on to dance with two stable-looking men in dress shirts. He should go back to the hotel. Nothing taunting him there except an empty room… and sleep. Sho ordered a Jack Coke.

The chorus rose unbidden to his lips, a murmur against the side of his glass. "Come to me, my dreamer— don't leave me be." He closed his eyes and pressed the ice-frosted glass to his forehead.

A hand draped lightly over his shoulder, the touch cool on his overheated skin. A familiar voice whispered in his ear, the tone hushed provocatively.

"Looking for someone…?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, sorry! Blame the end of my husband's paternity leave!
> 
> WHO'S HAND BE THAT EH? WHO'S TOUCHING OUR SMOL BEAN. Did I just call Sho a smol bean? I did. I diiiiiiid. Magic of EMYM fiction! He'll come back in the manga as a raging prick and I'm just gonna be like, "Come to mommy you sweet gay boi." Muahahahaha
> 
> Chapter dedicated to brennakai who ALMOST DIED. You crazy! So glad you're ok— I would dedicate the next Heels ch to you but I'm afraid to XD You get a sad Sho and a motherly admonition from Persie: DON'T DIE. Hugs!


	95. Reunited and It Feels So [Insert Adjective]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EMYM ad-libs: you get to finish the chapter title yourselves after you decide how you feel about NEW CHARACTER =0

Sho spun wildly, smacking the hand off his shoulder. The two men locked eyes; Sho's wide and unsteady with surprise, the other man's narrowed in predatory delight. He'd pulled his white hair back into a disheveled bun and wore clothes more evocative of a darkly psychotic Edward Cullen than an 18th century vampire lord, but the voice and slender, delicate hands now resting at his sides were unmistakable.

Reino licked his lips and leaned in close, pinning Sho against the bar just long enough to breathe in his ear before shifting and sitting on the seat next to him.

"Miss me," he said quietly, more of a statement than a question.

"As if, you asshole." Sho shoved off the bar to leave, his head spinning with questions. Reino's long fingers clenched suddenly around his wrist, holding him back.

"Don't go so soon. We only just reunited."

Sho stared out over the crowd, shaking his arm to try and free it. The slender fingers held an unusually firm grip. He didn't remember Reino being this strong. "Go crawl back in your hole, Beagle," he forced out between clenched teeth. Memories were swarming him, a queer blend of inadequacy and triumph from their last meeting in Karuizawa. He shook his arm again. His leather jacket slipped off his shoulders with the movement.

"Coffin," Reino purred. "Singing may have lost its charm for me, but I can't deny the luxury of a perfectly fitted bed."

Sho turned and stared at him. He rubbed his fingers over Sho's wrist, breaching the jacket's cuff to press chill skin against his wrist. He caressed his pulse point almost tenderly, watching the minute twitch of beat on skin. Sho hissed, his face flushing red with anger. He caught the bartender's curious gaze and snarled, stepping back to the bar to avoid standing out.

"So you gave up," he said, "couldn't make it without faking it."

Reino shrugged. "It was never what I wanted to do anyways. Purely a relief from boredom."

Sho grimaced. Hearing his life's pursuit described so cavalierly grated on him. "Now you're just what? Cosplaying vampires in New York?"

"Waiting for someone," Reino said mysteriously. "Like you are… Who were you looking for?" Reino asked, releasing Sho's hand to wave out over the dance floor. The pulsating lights made his features look ghastly pale, adding a layer of realism to his outrageous claim of sleeping in a coffin.

Sho ignored his question, taking a long draw from his drink. The man next to him jostled his shoulder, searching for more space at the bar.

"Don't be coy." The words slid out of Reino's mouth, insinuating things Sho had no desire to explore. "I have ways of finding out." The space around them seemed to contract, the music's steady beat merging with the thumping of his heart.

He slammed his drink down on the counter, spilling sticky brown soda over his fingers. "F* off," he growled, glaring at Reino. Reino smiled, reaching one hand out to gently touch Sho's temple. His eyes closed, head pulled back slightly as if by an unseen force. Sho felt something rip a gasp out of him, his vision clouding as he swayed. He forced his hand up, the air around it heavy, dragging it down. The distance to the cold touch at his forehead was achingly far- he forced a breath, filling his lungs with too-thick air. He shuddered with effort. His hand finally touched Reino's. Gray eyes snapped open and locked with his, Reino's hand falling freely away beneath his touch to hover beside his face.

"Interesting," Reino said, his words filled with callous joy. He laughed as he raised his finger to press on Sho's bottom lip. "Like this?" Sho felt his eyes start to water. Reino watched him, his eyes searching teasingly.

"What…" Sho swallowed. Each word had to be forced out like vomit, an expulsion of consonants against his restricted throat. "Do… you… want…"

Reino's thumb played along Sho's lip, pulling it sideways then moving to trace along his cheek to his jaw. Sho could feel the streak of wetness across his skin and it made him shiver.

"Same thing I've always wanted." Reino's eyes traveled slowly across Sho's features. "Her." He settled back into his seat at the bar, raising his hand to order a pair of bourbon and pomegranate juice cocktails. The bartender's movements seemed surreal to Sho; imbued with too much normalcy. Sho sank into the seat next to him, unable to look away. "I've been waiting, watching. I think you know perfectly well why I haven't been back to Japan." Reino's gaze flickered to Sho and back to their fresh drinks, sliding a blood red cocktail over to him.

"Tsuruga," Sho said simply, pushing the drink away.

Reino nodded appreciatively. "There are some risks I'm not willing to take." He swung his feet around in his seat, crossing his legs as he leaned back against the bar. His gaze flickered over the seething dance floor. He reached his arm out, running his fingertips down Sho's back. Sho shivered, his skin crawling. He grabbed the drink and chugged it, his head sinking down into his hands. "And some… I am."

The words came out more like gasps, but they came. "You want me to punch your skull in this time, rat?"

Reino's fingers paused, hovering over Sho's beltline. "Funny," he murmured. "Last time there was such confidence, such brash desire to maim inside you. I could taste the darkness. Now, though…" Reino's tongue flicked out as if he were tasting the air. "You lack."

Sho forced himself upright. "I'll show you who's lacking-"

A single finger on his breastbone. "Sit."

His throat constricted. He growled, his muscles trembling.

Reino's smile grew. "Sit," he repeated.

Sho's legs sagged, the breath forced out of him. "F*cker-"

"Good boy." He leaned in close, brushing the hair out of Sho's eyes. "You'll do nicely."

He felt beads of sweat forming on his brow. Trickling down the side of his face. Cool fingertips brushing one away, their simple movement accentuating his own inability to move. His chest tightened with panic but his hand remained perfectly still, loosely clasped around his drink. Reino pulled back, staring at him as he gently swept another bead of sweat off Sho's forehead, licking it off his fingertip.

He stood. Threw cash on the counter for their tab.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered, his voice cutting through the deafening music.

He disappeared into the crowd. Sho's control over his limbs returned piece by piece as the distance between them grew. He dry-heaved; gripping the bar with white fingertips. The bartender walked over and took his drink.

"You're done," he said to Sho, watching him closely for signs of impending vomit. "Get home before you black out."

Sho stood shakily. "Yeah," he said, shoving off the bar. "Home…" He pulled out his phone.

He shoved it back in his pocket. No one to call.

"Make my own way," he muttered, heading out into the early morning light.


	96. Pussies and Puppies

Setsu cocked an eyebrow at her phone. Her brother immediately stood, looming over her shoulder. She glanced at him, perturbed. His eye flicked to the mirror and back, a silent indication he’d been studying her intently as she was fussed over by her mom’s designer friend, Earl Mandy. 

“He did it,” she said, answering Cain’s unspoken question. 

Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow in question. She hummed, leaning back against him and raising her phone so he could see the screen clearly as the designer’s assistant pinned the bottom layer of her dress. “He listened.” 

The article’s headline filled the top half of the screen; a photo of the idiot singing into a studio mic with artfully mussed hair the bottom half. 

_FUWA SHO SURPRISES WORLD WITH INTERNATIONAL DEBUT_

Cain rubbed her shoulders. She nuzzled up into him. 

“It’s a clickbait title. He hasn’t actually debuted; he’s just recording in New York.” Her grin was predatory as she looked down at her phone, her hand gently stroking her brother’s cheek. “I’ll still win, don’t worry nii-san.” 

Mr. Mandy clapped twice in rapid succession. The door opened to a parade of junior assistants bearing trays full of accessories— followed by their mom with a broad-shouldered blonde man. 

“Mom,” Setsu moaned. “Really? I agreed to this fitting because you said nii-san could choose my dress. No more stylists.” 

“Oh dearest, you look stunning! It’s simply perfect for Quincey!” 

Setsu’s eyes grew hard and cold. “You said this dress was for the BHI. We’ve already been over it; I am _not—“_

Julie waved her hand, a mischievous smile on her face. “It is for the BHI. Darlings, meet Lord Quinceton Balthuman. Quincey, my children.” 

The blonde man bowed gracefully. A slight scar through his left eyebrow was the only mar on his otherworldly Nordic beauty. Cain scowled, wrapping his arms around Setsu. Setsu was torn between gaping like a fish at her mother’s audacity and laughing aloud at His Lordship. She decided for a middle ground.

“Lord,” she drawled, licking her lips. She would put the little lordling in his place. Cain growled at her, sensing her intentions. She squeezed his hand surreptitiously before sliding out from his embrace. Her gaze flickered over to her mother as she slowly crossed the distance to their side of the room. Every step was accentuated by the deep curves of the corseted, lacy dress as it swished around her ankles. She raked her eyes slowly up Balthuman’s body. Each measurement taken, weighed, found wanting when compared to her brother. 

She met his eyes. Or would have, if they’d been looking at her face. Setsu stopped, her hand on her hip, waiting. His throat clenched with a tight swallow as his eyes finally rose to the proper level. She blinked at him slowly, purposefully, her eyes cold.

“P-p-pleasure,” He stammered, bowing again. “Miss Heel.” 

Setsu’s mouth turned up at the edges. She’d seen His Little Lordship’s eyes widen and cheeks blanch as he rose from his bow. Cain’s presence loomed large behind her. Quincey swallowed again, his knees shaking slightly. He muttered something under his breath about a _feral tora_. Setsu frowned. Was he comparing her brother to a bull? She opened her mouth to challenge him, but Quincey spoke first.

“I’d like to invite you -- and your brother,” he added quickly, his eyes fixated on the space above her shoulder. The words started to flow quickly, a waterfall of explanation. “To dinner. Seafood, and I believe chef’s souffles, and chocolate pudding, unless another dish would be to your liking. Plenty of alcohol as well. That is, if you choose-- if you make that-- if it is part of your lifestyle. Not that you look like you drink. Quite the contrary. I do like a drink, stiff ones are quite useful in times like-- ahem. Your charming mother has informed me you recently returned from filming in Japan; my friend is a director there and I would be delighted to introduce you. The ah, ‘Demon of the Silver Screen’ I believe is his nickname. It seems an appropriate acquaintance. I mean-- goodness.” He cocked his head, an unexpectedly boyish smile playing across his lips as he addressed Cain directly. “Do you happen to have personal experience with breaking jaws?” 

Setsu stared at him. 

Cain’s voice came low and threatening over her shoulder. “And if I do…?” 

Quincey’s grin was shaky. “N-nothing. Just a curiosity of mine. You remind me of my man and it’s something I’ve always wondered about that Tora refuses to elaborate on.” 

“Tora?” That word again. 

“My man. His name. He’s quite the… well, like your brother. He has a presence.” Quincey took a step backwards, his eyes still drawn over her shoulder to Cain. “Do join us tonight for dinner. My father is anxious to meet yours as well.” He turned and bent over their mother’s hand, kissing the back gently. “Always the deepest pleasure, madame.” His Lordship turned, reaching out for Setsu’s hand-- then seemed to reconsider, stealing a glance above her. He smiled and bowed his head at the pair, then left. 

Setsu rolled her eyes at her mother, turning to examine the trays the assistants patiently held. 

“Oh, come dearest, he’s charming. And he most definitely would not touch a hair on your head for the duration of the engagement; he’s apparently far too aware of the way Cain would break his jaw for any indecency.” She crossed the room and patted Cain’s shoulder. “I do wish you would relax, dear one. Those frown lines mar your features so.” 

Cain grunted, turning from his mother to plop into a chair. He was sulking. Her brother would need some sister therapy before dinner tonight if she was to keep him from murdering someone. 

Or breaking any jaws. Setsu held a blood-red ruby necklace up, examining her reflection. 

Meeting Tora could be quite interesting. 

~*~

When Setsu mentioned “sister therapy” to him as they left the fitting rooms at R. Mandy’s, this had not been the scene his mind leaped to. Something involving less slobber and more tangled bedsheets. 

Cain looked up at the bright, cheerful blue sign for the Battersea Dogs & Cats Home. He looked at his sister. She was quite literally the human embodiment of a cocker spaniel, bouncing on her toes, her hands clasped in front of her chin, her eyes wide and shining with her blonde tresses perfectly framing her face as she wiggled beseechingly in front of him. 

He wanted to say no. He wanted to turn and leave, to drag her back to their hotel room, fill the tub with ludicrous amounts of bubble bath, rip that devilishly tight leather bodysuit off her and drag her with him into the sudsy delight of an hour-long couples’ soak. 

Damn it, why did she have to be this cute. 

“Why,” he said, trying to keep the growl out of his voice. 

“Nii-san,” she whined, still magnificently evoking a spaniel. “Haven’t you seen their billboards? These dogs are even better at puppy dog eyes than you are. You need practice to keep up.” 

Cain huffed at her. Using those sweet pink lips to utter total nonsense. It wasn’t fair. He walked over to ruffle her hair. She beamed up at him and almost skipped as she turned around before quickly settling down into her usual steady, swaying gait. He loved the way she walked. If just seeing some dogs and cats would make her skip and shine like that, he wondered what would happen if he brought one home. Or two. Maybe even some cats. She would lay back on the sofa, a fluffy white cat perched on her bare stomach as she carefully painted her nails.

No-- wait. No cats. Cuddling Setsu was his job. He couldn’t bring competition into the house. Bad enough that mom and dad were here stealing her time. 

And now this Quincemeat. Cain scowled, thunderclouds marring his features. Setsu pouted slightly, sensing his changing mood and dragging him faster past the waiting lines into the interior of the shelter. He stood silently brooding while she got them a booth. The volunteer sized up Cain and suggested several larger breeds, but Setsu waved each away, forcing the teen to fetch her the smallest ball of blonde fluff he’d ever seen. A tiny black nose peeked out from the fuzz of fur, sniffing anxiously at Setsu when the worker placed the pup in her lap. She cooed, holding the puppy aloft before plopping it in his hands. 

The entire dog fit in one of his palms. He sat there, staring at it. The small dog stared back then barked a teeny yip of a bark and sat down on his palm, panting and wiggling its butt as it watched him. He smirked. It looked just like Setsu. 

She placed her hand on his leg, her eyes watching his face as he looked at the tiny ball of fur. “Mom… isn’t really serious, is she?” Her voice was quiet and calm. He felt his back stiffen and forced himself to concentrate on not squishing the ever-more ecstatic creature riding on his palm. 

“Quinceton Balthuman,” she said, her fingers trailing off his leg, leaving too much space between them. He wanted to reach for her and pull her hand back. The puppy stuck its tongue out, panting at him. “He probably isn’t even real. Some actor they’ve paid.” Cain shrugged, stroking the puppy’s head with one finger. He gently sat the puppy on his lap; his hands were for one purpose only and, however cute, the puppy was interfering. 

Cain reached out and wrapped his arms around Setsu, pulling her against his side. She shifted to sit comfortably in his embrace and pulled out her phone, pressing the center button for voice commands. “Google-sensei, search Quinceton Balthuman.” Her phone made a tinkling sound before confirming: “Here’s what I found online.” 

Results filled the glowing screen; news articles, tabloids, press releases, even a Wikipedia page. Quinceton Balthuman was not only real, he was notoriously single, filthy rich— and embroiled in scandal. Setsu chewed on her lip ring as she scrolled rapidly through a news article on the suspected criminal dealings of the Balthuman family. None proven. 

Cain gently rubbed her earlobe between his fingers, enjoying the feel of her perfectly soft flesh as much as he enjoyed soothing her anxiety with his touch. She nestled into him, reaching around to snag the puppy and cuddle him tight against her chest. 

“What are they thinking…” she murmured into fluffy fur. Cain frowned. The puppy needed to go. He had fluffy bedhead more than suited for her to nuzzle. 

Cain plucked the puppy out of her hands and plopped it on the floor. He nudged a tiny tennis ball over to it with his foot. She giggled, watching the puppy tumble over its own paws as it chased the ball. 

“Just be you,” he said gruffly. 

He felt her sigh. She craned her neck to look up at him. “Kuon,” she said softly, her voice unsure. He blinked, looking down in surprise. Breaking character suddenly was… completely out of character for her. 

“What is your mom thinking?” She worried at her lip. His Kyoko was asking. Kuon let Cain slough off him, drawing her into a fierce hug. 

“Honestly,” he said, a defeated laugh escaping him. “I’m not quite sure. My mom once told me she was dying in order to get me to call.” Kyoko’s eyes widened in disbelief, her grip tightening on his hand. He chuckled, burying his face in her shoulder. “She loves too much; too grandly. I think sometimes she isn’t able to get it all out of herself and it bursts. When we were together, it would run over as she cooked. She’d get so excited to be making food for a family dinner, so wrapped up in the ideal of motherhood and love expression through cuisine that she’d lose track of the actual mechanics of cooking and burn the entire meal.” 

Kyoko stifled a giggle. “I remember your dad talking about her unique flavors. I had a feeling it meant something more than simply exotic spice choices.” 

“Unless charcoal counts as exotic,” he finished for her. The couple laughed, then stilled. 

“How far will she take this, Kuon?” Her voice was calm. She trusted him, and she wanted to trust the ones that loved him. 

“Remember what she said at our hotel?” 

Kyoko shook her head, uncertain what he meant. 

“The Balthuman deal is a ruse— a fake engagement. Her character fully supports her childrens’ relationship, even though it goes against the morals of nearly every modern culture.” He kissed her cheek. “That was mom’s way of giving us a boundary to her role. As far as tonight goes…” He let his voice trail off, turning her chin upwards to claim her lips with a slow, sensual kiss. “Let’s follow her lead. We’ll be the dangerously-in-love siblings through and through and see just how long it takes these British blue bloods to kick us out.” 

Setsu rejoined him at that, licking her lips in anticipation. She twined her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He could feel her warm breath, her lips ghosting over his as she replied. “I like the way you think, nii-san.”

God, he loved his baby sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quinceton is a character from Lilydusk’s Midnight Poppy Land Webtoon. It’s fantastic!! I couldn’t resist bringing some of the characters in for a cameo, though I have modified the Balthumans slightly to make the British bluebloods. Go and check it out!
> 
> Persie loves you!


	97. Better Learn French

Quincey’s home rose from the bustling street side with that impossibly perfect dissonance of London mansions. What seemed at first glance to be a row of elegant iron-wrought windows covering an expanse only an administrative building could justify morphed into a ludicrous “single family home” when the front door burst open to reveal the beaming Lord Quincemeat himself. 

Setsu’s grip on her brother’s waist tightened as they mounted the stairs. Quincey waved eagerly, calling out their names and beckoning them inside. Setsu looked up at her brother. His face was fierce, calculating, already scanning the crowd inside. Somehow the two of them had found themselves at a private dinner arranged by bona fide British crime lords. Setsu’s inner Kyoko refused to let the truth penetrate her consciousness, preferring to pretend everything was an elaborate act staged by President Takarada. She was starting to understand why he and the Hizuris were bosom friends.

Music and light swept over them as they entered the spacious foyer. Shimmers from a two-story chandelier speckled Setsu’s bare skin, highlighting the fact that her clothing edged heavily towards skin in the skin-to-cloth ratio. Cain’s palm felt feverishly hot where it rested on her exposed midriff, his fingers gently rubbing tiny circles to the rhythm of their footsteps. 

Quincey waved at them again, from across the room. He had apparently already found the acquaintance he’d been so eager to introduce them to and wanted no time to go to waste before his goals were accomplished. Setsu stopped; her brother immediately followed suit, their intimate embrace making him sensitive to the smallest shifts in her movement. She turned to face him, twining her arms up around his neck to pull his face down to meet hers. Her tiny pink tongue flicked out to run across her dry lips, drawing a hard swallow and a smile from her nii-san. She leaned in to whisper in his ear, letting her lips graze his neck before pulling back enough to see his face. 

“I love you,” she’d said. His eyes gleamed darkly, shifting from her face to purposefully look over her and stare down Quincey, daring him to react. She saw Cain’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He’d found a reaction he wasn’t expecting. Setsu turned, keeping her movements casual, unconcerned. Quincey was watching them, a massive grin on his face. His bit his lip and blushed, turning to fully face his conversation partners. 

Setsu twined her fingers through Cain’s, pausing a moment longer before squeezing his hand and walking together to join Quincey. Halfway across the room her brother stopped, frozen in his tracks, his hand suddenly rigid as it wrapped around hers. She glanced at him, concern flickering across her features. He was staring at the bar. A lone man leaned against it, smoke swirling up from a lit cigarette clenched between his teeth. His eyes were downcast, studying the carpet. 

He shifted his weight. His eyes raised -- shocking gold, a rich brightness in the dim light of the bar startlingly similar to Kyoko’s own. But instead of brimming with life, these golden eyes foreshadowed pain. 

Setsu smiled. She reveled in the promise of sadism. 

“Tora,” she breathed. 

Tora’s eyes swept over her, lingering at the leather tie barely holding her top together before continuing leisurely upwards and locking with her brother’s. She could feel the electric shock of adrenaline coursing through her body as the men’s gazes meshed. Her heart was racing, blood pumping wildly through her veins. She desperately wanted to turn and look at Cain’s face, to see what expression he was using to hold Tora’s attention captive but was afraid one movement would break the spell and throw the entire room into chaos. One wrong movement and these waves would crash into violence. Cain’s hand reached up and slid down over her shoulder, covering her chest, the tips of his fingers pressing just under the hem of her top. Her breath hitched. Tora’s mouth crooked, his fierce gaze momentarily focusing on her -- God, she felt like the floor was going to dissolve beneath her -- before he finally blinked, turning to snuff out his cigarette on the bar’s surface. 

Quincey’s voice rang out clear as a bell in her ears, like a summons back to reality. “Tora!  _ Damnitall _ , we have ashtrays!” 

She wasn’t sure she wanted to be back. Cain caressed her breastbone, then slowly withdrew his hand to linger at her side once more. Quincey kept shooting them brief glances, his face blushing pink and then cooling repeatedly. 

She took a deep, shaky breath, convincing herself she could walk. Cain led her over to his father, deep in discussion of the merits of various Singaporean soccer teams with an equally tall and elegantly dressed blonde man.

“My darling children!” Kuu exploded. “Pardon me, Lord Balthuman-- my son, Cain; my daughter, Setsuka. Children, Lord Balthuman. Did you know he’s been to 28 games at the National Stadium? Why, that’s four more than me! Setsu, join daddy on a trip, won’t you, we can’t be outdone like this.”

“Daaaad,” Setsu said, injecting her voice with a heavy layer of whine. “I am not flying halfway around the world to watch a game I can see more clearly on the telly.” 

“Oh, sweetling, but think of the shaved ice! And satay! The open air markets around the stadium!” 

Setsu crosses her arms, shaking her head at her dad. “If you make me fly 20-odd hours, it better be for a tropical beach with nii-san. Not street food and sports.” 

Lord Balthuman laughed, the sound rich and deep. “A sensible one, your daughter.” 

Kuu beamed, drawing her in for a side-hug. Setsu indulged him briefly before gently pushing off to cradle herself under Cain’s arm once more. Balthuman cocked an eyebrow, scanning the pair before turning back to Kuu. “Since your father-daughter plans have been rejected, perhaps I could offer a trip? Our private jet is always reserved for a quick jaunt to watch Home United. I have a home game box on reserve.” Kuu grinned broadly. 

Setsu tuned out their discussion of various player’s merits, looking longingly at the hors d'oeuvres. Cain would typically notice and stroll away to fetch her a mountain’s worth of cheese and spanakopita, but tonight he unreasonably refused to stray so much as an inch from her side. Their father’s emotion deepened, arguing animatedly with the elder Lord about tactics used by a team she didn’t even know existed. It made her wonder momentarily whether they were actually discussing soccer at all, or if the entire conversation were a euphemism for more illicit activities in East Asia. Their father and Quincey’s wandered off, Lord Balthuman requesting his servants to ready the theater room for them to watch the latest game. 

Quincey appeared at her side, handing her a plate brimming with shrimp cocktail and miniature cheese souffles. Cain took it from him instead, picking up one of the biggest souffles and taking a bite before offering her the other half, holding it out for her to eat from his fingers. Setsu obliged, wrapping her lips around his fingers with a devilish gleam in her eyes. She could hear Quincey’s gulp behind them and felt herself flush with victory. He tapped Cain on the shoulder. Her brother growled, refusing to turn and risk breaking his gaze away from her face. 

Quincey cleared his throat, stepping around to face them both, smiling brightly. “I know the engagement has been rather sudden, but I did want to make it clear…” He wet his lips as Cain licked his fingers before grabbing another appetizer to feed her. “If during the duration you would ever desire to engage in a  _ menage a trois _ , I would be more than amicable.” 

Cain’s form went death-still beside her. She could hear a low, dangerous rumble beginning in his chest. 

“Manage a Troy?” She asked, cocking her head to the side. The French was unfamiliar to her. 

Her brother’s hand clenched around hers, tugging her away as he stalked off. Quincey followed them, his gait spritely. 

“Threesome,” he said innocently. “Could be quite fun.” 

Setsu blanched, unable to keep Kyoko from breaking through. English was not her first language and yet even she could deduce the connotations of his invitation. She whipped her head around, desperately avoiding eye contact with Quincey. This was not how the man was supposed to react to their displays. Kyoko stumbled, her knees weak.

Quincey continued, reaching his hand out to steady her by the shoulder. “I’ve noticed a rather electric connection between you two. While certainly not my first affair, it would be my first threesome. However, I’m sure--” 

Cain turned suddenly, his teeth bared in a rictus snarl. He lunged at Quincey, batting his hand away. “Leave my sister alone.” 

Kyoko’s inner demons could feel the rage radiating off of Cain as he confronted Quincey, popping out to taste the air in delight. The darkness suddenly thickened, multiplying exponentially. Her head darted up; searching for the cause. Cain had never produced this much evil before. 

Tora loomed behind Quincey, his mouth set in a firm line. His voice was low, threatening. “Don’t. Touch. Him.” 

Cain bit off his retort, his body shaking with the effort of keeping himself in check. “Don’t let him touch her.” He wrapped both arms around Setsu, holding her tight. His muscles were like cords, almost painfully taut against her chest. “Or I’ll kill you both.” 

Tora’s eyes locked with Cain’s. Setsu felt like she was watching two wolves facing off, ready to leap for one another’s jugulars in a death match for alpha. Her inner demons had stopped celebrating; they’d all passed out, black-out drunk from the sheer volume of evil rays consumed already. 

“I say,” Quincey interjected, his voice gratingly bright. A slight tremble beneath betrayed his easy calm. “Haven’t you two met? Tora, Cain. Cain, Tora. Quincey, Setsu; Setsu, Quincey.” The two larger men ignored him, staring at one another in wordless challenge. 

Kyoko summoned Setsu by sheer force of will. She had to break the tension before Cain snapped and attacked him. For the first time she wasn’t sure he would emerge completely unscathed. Tora projected as every bit as bloodthirsty as B.J. 

She tapped Cain’s arm, requesting release. He tensed, minutely shaking his head in rejection. She stroked his cheek, asking him to trust her. Slowly, unwillingly, his hand relaxed just enough to let her step forward. 

She held out her arm towards Tora, fingers draped gracefully, inviting a handshake. “Setsuka Heel,” she said, then gestured back at Cain. “This one’s mine.”

Tora stared at her silently. Quincey laughed giddily. “Quinceton Balthuman,” he said, stepping out in front of Tora to meet her. “That one’s mine!” Setsu looked at him in disbelief, but Tora stayed quiet, accepting the position. She felt Cain relax behind her and glanced over her shoulder at him. Her eyes went wide in surprise. He was actually smiling. Then he started… to laugh. 

Had he lost his mind?

“Each…” he paused to let a chuckle escape, gesturing at Tora. “Owned by a little blonde.” He doubled over in laughter, gripping his stomach. Tora cracked a grin. 

“Mine’s cuter,” Tora said, his eyes full of a wicked tease. 

“F*** off,” Cain retorted. “Yours is a pussy.” 

At that, Tora threw his own head back in wild laughter. “Dead on,” he muttered. He cocked his head at the bar. “Whisky?” 

“Highland?” 

“Mmmm,” Tora grunted in acknowledgment. The two wandered over to the bar, leaving their little blonde owners staring after them in astonishment. Setsu gaped at Quincey. He smirked, shrugging his shoulders.

“Perhaps a foursome is more in order?” He offered sheepishly. She smacked him. 


	98. The Demon of the Silver Screen

Quincey rubbed his arm, wincing playfully. He glanced over at the two alphas engaging in comfortable manly silence at the bar, then back at her.

“Pardon me, Miss Heel--”

“Setsuka. Miss Heel sounds like my mother.”

“Setsuka, yes. Since our men are busy, would you like to join me for an aperitif?”

She glared at him from beneath lowered brows, suspicious of any French words crossing his lips.

“A light drink, Setsuka. Nothing but a drink. I could introduce you to my associate from Japan while we sip?”

Setsu studied him a moment longer, then nodded curtly. A final glance over her shoulder confirmed Cain’s happy esconscement with his newfound friend. The two were swirling amber-colored liquor, holding the glasses up to the light before swigging the contents. Quincey guided her by the elbow to a small cluster of chatting people, clearing his throat politely to catch the attention of the man closest to them.

“My dear Mr. Shingai,” he said, sweeping his hand dramatically as he introduced the pair. “I’d love to have the honor of introducing you to my dear friend, Setsuka Heel.”

Setsu’s eyes went wide, the sudden shock of recognition forcing Kyoko through for the briefest of moments. Seiji Shingai’s eyes lit up, his smile a little too pleased for her liking.

“Setsuka Heel, you say?” he said calmly, studying her face carefully. “I believe I’ve had the honor of previous acquaintance.”

“Mmmm,” she murmured, shaking her head slightly as she willed the cold mask of indifference to reclaim her features. “Not likely.” Setsu examined her fingertips, holding her hand out to receive a small cocktail from Quincey.

Shingai nodded in apology. “It must be a simple case of resemblance.”

Quincey blurted a laugh. “You’ve met someone like her before?” He beamed at Setsu. “How genuinely interesting. I have never come across such a…” She glared at him, daring him to finish his sentence. Quincey swallowed hard. “Delightfully unique creature. I must visit Japan myself someday.” He leaned in close to Setsu to whisper playfully in her ear. “Perhaps one of your look-alikes will indulge my French requests.”

Setsu smacked his shoulder again, drawing forth dramatic complaints about tender skin bruising easily. She glanced at Shingai. He was still watching her closely, his eyes sharp and attentive to every gesture made.

“You are in town for the BHI?” he asked, sipping his drink.

“Yes,” she said. “My brother was asked to promote his latest film.”

“Ah. A brother-- and he is…?”

Setsuka frowned at him. “Mine.”

Shingai laughed under his breath. Quincey gestured over at the bar. “Making nice with the natives,” he said comically. “And raiding my aged Scotch collection in the process, no doubt.”

Setsu crossed her arms. She was about done with this conversation. Time to go collect nii-san.

“How has your ankle healed?” Shingai asked as he waved for a waiter carrying trays of hors d’ouerves.

“Fine,” she replied automatically, then blanched.

Shingai pulled two small plates off the tray, holding one out to her. He held the plate in his grip long enough to force her to make eye contact, smiling as his gray eyes met her golden ones. “Excellent,” he said quietly.

Kyoko panicked beneath her calm Setsu mask. She’d blown it. He knew. She handed her plate and glass to Quincey, excusing herself. She could feel Shingai’s eyes on her back as she forced herself to walk calmly away toward the bar. She needed to leave with nii-san before Shingai worked out an introduction to Cain -- or, perhaps worse, to Kuu or Julie and figured out Kuon’s true connections to the Hizuri family. She worried at her lip, walking faster across the massive room.

The bar was empty. Cain and Tora had disappeared. Kyoko felt an urge to curse.

She needed to find mom.

A quick scan of the room revealed the beautiful Julie Heel engaged in a focused conversation with a man who appeared to be head chef. Setsu tried to walk as casually as possible over to her mother, aware of the continued amused scrutiny of Director Shingai.

“...personal favorite is Bleu de Bocage, but I am simply gushing over the goat cheese you used in these mushrooms. You must tell me the source.”

“Madame, you are too kind, naturally it was Brunet. Would you like to take some home with you? It can be arranged-- please, come join me in the kitchen, a chef of your discerning palate would be most welcome in my humble domain.”

“No.” Setsu interjected firmly, gripping her mother’s elbow before she could follow the unsuspecting chef. “Ah, thank you, but no.” If even half the stories Kuu and Kuon told of her cooking were true, Julie mustn’t be allowed anywhere near a professional kitchen.

Julie turned to look at her quizzically. “Dearest, is everything alright? Don’t tell me Quincey has already proposed.” Julie’s smile was bright, illuminating her stunning features. “You do look simply edible tonight, but it would throw off your father’s timetables by about a week if we were to have to move the expected nuptial date up.”

“Mom,” Setsu’s voice rose in exasperation. “How many times do I have to tell you, I am NOT--“ She drew in a deep breath, stopping herself. “Never mind. Please, mom, can we talk?” She glanced over Julie’s shoulder at the chef, who bowed gracefully and retreated to the kitchens.

Julie moved out of the main room to sit on a settee in the quiet hallway. “What is it, darling? Does your corset pinch? I told you we should’ve gone with the red one.”

Setsu wanted to maul her own face with her hands. “Mom. Please. Listen.”

Julie crossed her hands peacefully in her lap and waited.

“Director Shingai knows.”

Her mother’s head cocked, looking at Setsu expectantly.

“He… I auditioned for one of his projects at the start of my career. He recognized me somehow, even as Setsu.” Her desperate cling to the character of the Heel girl was the only thing keeping her from dropping into a dogeza on the marble floor. “I’m not a good enough actress; I failed to keep the character. I’m so sorry, Julie-- he could figure it all out now-- you need to leave. If he connects you and Hizuri-san to--”

“Shh,” Julie motioned, placing her finger gently on Kyoko’s lips to still her voice, then drawing her into a gentle hug. “Shh, dear one.” Julie glanced around over Kyoko’s back, making sure they were still alone. Her hand felt warm on Kyoko’s shoulder; it was growing increasingly difficult to keep composure beneath the gentle gesture.

“I should be better at this by now, I—“

“Setsuka.” Julie’s voice was firm. She pushed up on Kyoko’s chin, making her meet her eyes. “You are an outstanding actress.” She waited, watching her expectantly until Setsu looked at her through Kyoko’s eyes, sniffing slightly and sitting up straighter. “Director Shingai, however, isn’t called the Demon of the Silver Screen because of his predilection for filming slasher fics.” She patted the lace draping Setsu’s upper arms. “I’m afraid we all underestimated him.”

Setsu waited. Julie would know what to do. That’s what real moms did. They fixed things.

Julie’s smile was tinged with sadness. “Just as I underestimated you.” She cupped Setsu’s face in her palm, her eyes tender. “I lost him once. I can’t lose him again… I had to—“ Julie sighed, squeezing her into a bear hug just as rib-crushing as any Kuu could deliver. “I had to try and find a way to make sure you weren’t toying with him.”

Kyoko gasped in surprise, then gasped again for air as Julie squeezed her tighter before continuing.

“Kuu got to meet you.” She sounded like she was forcing the words out, her voice tight and tinged with regret. “I was left waiting, completely unaware of the woman my son was slowly tying his life to.” She sat back from Kyoko, fingering the very tips of her blonde hair. “I wanted to make sure you loved him as much as he loves you.”

Setsu’s eyes grew wide. “So the engagement…?”

Julie nodded. “I’m sorry.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “A crude trick, dangling a rich British lord in front of you.” Setsu shook her head in disbelief. “Especially since darling tells me you’re far more interested in fairies than lordlings.”

At that Kyoko broke through again with a giggle. “Julie-san, I have my fairy and my prince. And if he’ll have me, I don’t plan on going anywhere for the rest of my life.”

Julie held back a squeal, her eyes glistening. She leaned forward and whispered in Kyoko’s ear, hugging her gently. “Kyoko, I cannot wait to get to know you. Not Setsuka— whom you play beautifully— but you.” Her warm gaze searched Kyoko’s eyes as she brushed her bangs to the side. “And please, don’t stop calling me Mom.”

Kyoko fell into her hug, letting herself enjoy the moment. But it couldn’t last — not yet. “Mom,” she said, pausing to smile at the pronoun. “You and dad need to leave. If Director Shingai recognizes you…”

Julie nodded, her demeanor shifting. “I understand, dearest. I’ll collect darling— on one condition.”

Kyoko perked up, bracing her hands on her knees. She still didn’t know Julie well enough to predict what would follow.

“Come visit us for Christmas. At least. Visit us often, wear out our front door!” She gripped Kyoko’s hands in hers. “Move in!”

Kyoko coughed, hiding her embarrassment.

Julie gave Kyoko’s hands a squeeze before standing. “We miss him. I miss him. But,” she paused, taking a deep breath with a wistful expression, “I will try to trust you with him.”

She brushed imaginary wrinkles from her skirt and wiggled her eyebrows at Kyoko suggestively.

“Consider this the end of our interruption of your romantic getaway.”

Kyoko blushed. “We’ll come home soon,” she said softly. “I promise, mom.”

Julie patted her head, carefully arranging a few stray strands. “Until then,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Give him enough love to cover dad and I’s contribution too.”

Kyoko made a mock-grimace face. “Ay-yah, mom! I don’t think there’s enough hours in the day for that!”

Julie laughed, then turned and went to find Kuu. The room seemed slightly duller after her absence, as if someone had replaced the sun itself with a mere chandelier. Kyoko looked at her hands, a hesitant smile flitting across her face. “Home…” she whispered to herself. Every moment she spent with Kuu or Julie was another puzzle piece to the man she loved falling into place. She stood, straightening her own short skirt.

Time to find out where nii-san had gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CANT STOP WONT STOP BINGE WRITING FOR VALENTINE’S DAY


	99. Brother Therapy

Her nii-san waltzed back in the room, swinging a bottle of amber spirits carelessly in his hand, a few sparse phrases exchanged between him and his equally nonplussed companion. Anger lanced through her. She’d been dealing with a family crisis while he raided a liquor stash with his new buddy. They were his parents too. This was his life, his name, his reputation -- damnitall, _she_ was  his sister ! Not Tora! 

Setsu started to stalk across the room, intent on ripping both of the miscreants a new one. She stopped, her eyes lighting up. No-- the perfect revenge wouldn’t be reaming him out, but treating him in kind. He’d left her with Quincey; with Quincey she would go. 

Setsu spun on her heel, the loose lace of her top swishing around her hips. Where did His Little Lordship go? She caught him by the chocolate fountain-- with Shingai. 

Setsu bared her teeth in frustration. She felt like a caged lioness in the zoo, hemmed in on all sides by complete idiots who couldn’t understand she just wanted to rip a new one in EVERYONE. She almost roared aloud, but settled on grabbing a flute of champagne from the nearest waiter and chugging the contents. 

A firm grip clasped her elbow, pulling her drink down from her thirsty. “Damn it, if you don’t let me just  _ do what I want--” _

“Setsu,” his voice was gentle; his eyes full of question. She snarled at him. “Setsu…” He repeated, reaching out to stroke her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Sorry for leaving me to deal with everything? Sorry for drinking when you know I don’t like that? Sorry for dumping me with the other ‘little blonde’ to run off with your new best friend? Why don’t you and Tora just go f* yourselves and I’ll run off with Quinceton and become Her Ladyship!” She was yelling. She was making an awful scene, and she knew it, but the tears were threatening and the only thing she could think of to make it stop was anger.

Cain’s arms scooped her up, sweeping her off her feet as easily as a child. She cried out in shock and embarrassment, then started to hit him. Her body was responding to his touch without her permission, sinking into him gratefully, warming and flushing at the feel of his hands on her thigh and shoulder. She hated it. She loved it. “Damn it, nii-san,” she muttered, burying her face in his chest. “Can’t you just let me be mad?” 

She felt his head shake “no,” gripping her more tightly as he walked out of the house without a word of departure. She whacked him once with her fist, thumping as hard as she could on his chest. His grip shifted slightly; she heard him open a car door. He sat down with her on his lap, filling the back seat of a taxi. The driver objected, calling over the seat for both passengers to buckle up, but a single glare from Cain silenced him to quiet mutters about them being liable, not him. 

He cradled her against his chest all the way up to their penthouse room, only setting her down on the couch once they were safely inside. He knelt in front of her, his head on level with hers even though he was on his knees. She tried to pout but had to avert her eyes in order to keep up the pretense. Thirty minutes of lap time had worked it’s magic on their way here and she could barely remember why she was angry.

That’s right.  _ Tora.  _ She crossed her arms. 

Nii-san sighed, stroking her leg. He laid his head down in her lap and closed his eyes before speaking. “I’m sorry.” 

She huffed. “You don’t even know what you’re sorry for.” 

Cain turned his head to look at her, his chin propped on her thigh. “Yes. For standing near someone other than you, for even a moment.” 

She frowned at him. It wasn’t fair that he’d gotten it right on the very first try. How was she supposed to stay angry now? He reached up to play with the ends of her hair, his eyes wide and innocent. “Let me make it up to you?” 

“Not fair.” She made a disaster of a face at him. “Stop with the puppy dog eyes.” 

Cain cocked his head, nuzzling into her lap with pouted lips, gazing up at her. He blinked slowly before pushing the words out in a low whine. “Pleeeeeeaaaasse?” 

Setsu’s eyes rolled back and she plopped her head on the back of the couch. “I surrender,” she muttered. “Do as you will, you naughty brother.” 

His smile was bright and immediate. He stood gracefully, striding into the bathroom to run hot water. She watched curiously, wondering just how he planned to make it up to her. “Nii-san?” 

His head popped back out. He’d taken off his jacket and shirt and stood in the doorway bare-chested. She felt her face flush as she ran her gaze down the length of his long torso. 

“Time for brother therapy,” he said, his voice like velvet. She stood, craning her neck to look behind him. A mountain of bubbles was already forming in the tub. He smiled, then stepped back into the room, busily arranging things. She couldn’t see around him from where she sat and stood, walking over to join him. 

Cain stepped back, his face held carefully still but clearly beaming with pride. Small candles ringed one side of the tub; bottles of fancy body wash and bath oils lined up carefully on a small stepstool nearby. Black rose petals floated on the bubbles’ surface. 

“You drew me a bath,” she said softly, a small smile on her face. “It’s a start.” 

Cain shook his head, his smile breaking past his defenses. “I drew a bath for us.”

She felt the blush’s heat spread like wildfire over her body. He stepped forward to slide his hands slowly over her bare shoulders. A kiss on her forehead; a whispered plea in her ear. “Let me show you who I belong beside.”

She shivered, both desperate for his touch and afraid of the consequences. His hands glided down her arms, gently pushing her top down, bending to pull at the front tie with his teeth. It fell in a dark puddle at her feet, crushed beneath her feet as she leaned forward to wrap him in a fierce hug. 

“Don’t leave me again,” she said, the words muffled against his bare skin. 

His answering hug was tight and made breathing difficult. Large hands deftly unhooked the clasp of her skirt. She let go of her tight grip on him to push her underwear down with it, standing on her own for only the briefest moment before he drew her up into his arms once more. Tenderly, his fingers pushed under the fringe of her blonde hair, finding the secret bobby pins and slipping the heavy wig off. Kyoko smiled up at him, freed from the weight and the pretense. Kuon bent forward and kissed her, his eyes glowing with warmth. Carefully, he leaned over the tub and sat her on the edge, letting her slowly slide herself in. 

The water was warm; she closed her eyes and sank into the bubbles. She felt the water stir around her as he stepped in behind her. His skin slid velvet-soft against hers as Kuon settled into place. His long legs surrounded her, touching every inch of the outside of her legs. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her back to rest on his warm chest. The feeling of his body surrounding her was intoxicating, the heat of the water and his careful touches making her almost dizzy. 

He scooped up water in his hand, letting it run through his fingers to soak her short hair. She moaned when he began to massage her scalp, working lavender-scented shampoo through her tresses. He paused at the sound; she could feel him holding himself tense behind her. 

“Don’t stop,” she said, leaning back into him. She sighed blissfully as one of his hands slowly resumed its work, gently massaging in swirling circles over her scalp. The other drifted lower, spreading orange blossom-scented body soap over her shoulders and chest with a large, soft sponge. Kyoko shuddered in delight, sinking lower in the water, the bubbles tickling her sensitive skin as they shifted. 

“Lean forward,” Kuon whispered, pressing gently on her arm. She almost purred as he poured warm water over her hair and back, his hands moving the soft sponge in soothing swirls over her bare skin. Floral scents, gentle splashing sounds, warm candlelight and her lover’s sweet caresses -- it was like a dream. 

No, better. It was like this and this alone was real and every bit of stress from the day was the dream. She rested back into him again, letting him wash away every bit of her tension. He held the sponge aloft, letting warm water drip over her chest, clearing away the bubbles bit by bit. Slowly, surely, a new tension replaced her stress. He set aside the sponge to smooth away the remaining soap and bubbles with his hands; their silky touch fire-hot on her bare skin. She could feel the heat of his body behind her, an intense awareness of his closeness and his own growing need for her. 

His movements slowed, deepened. She rolled her neck to the side, craving the feeling of his lips. He took her unspoken invitation, bending to sear her skin with his kisses even as his hands dove lower, beneath the bubbles. His strokes made her gasp and quiver, pressing into him and against the sides of the tub. 

Water splashed over them, waves licking higher up on their bare skin as they moved against one another. Their touches grew more feverish. He had lost the excuse of washing her; now pure need guided his exploration of her body. The floor of the bathroom was soaked from the splashes created by their hungry movements, but both were long past caring. Bubbles clung, popping, gliding between them. Her soft moans filled the room, mingling with his gasps. His skin was slick beneath her touch; beaded sweat and water mingling on her tongue when she kissed his neck. He was consuming her. The heat inside unfurled like the rising sun, warming her more quickly than the first touch of bath water. Their voices grew sharper, harsher, as they let go of everything except the feeling of their union. 

The lovers lay spent against one another, bodies flushed and sweaty beneath the greatly lessened bubble mountain. Kuon scooped a handful and let it dribble out between his fingers, dripping to coat her chest with bubbles once more. She smiled sleepily at the blissful feeling of being filled and utterly spoiled. Part of her wished she’d joined Kuon in his bubble baths back in their long-ago hotel room— the other part knew they were a different version of them now because of everything that had happened since. It was a journey she’d never trade. 

She sat up, turning to twine her arms around his neck and pull him in for a long, deep, lazy kiss. Kuon grinned against her mouth as she pulled back, a happy sigh escaping his lips. He stood, a Cheshire Cat smile on his face while he watched her expression shift to one of wonder and pride. “All yours,” he said mischievously. 

She giggled, burying herself in the bubbles. Kuon grabbed towels his towel and dried off; carefully placing hers on the warmer. 

“I’ll make a snack,” he said playfully, smiling at her as she tried to mimic the bubble-men he’d crafted his first jaunt as Cain. 

“You? Cook?” Kyoko stood upright, bubbles and water flowing off her to Kuon’s obvious delight. “Please, no!” They laughed together as she grabbed her towel and made a great show of trying to beat him to the kitchen, pulling out pots and utensils in a rush with just the soft towel wrapped around her. 

“Kyoko,” Kuon murmured in her ear, pinning her against the cabinet. “If you want me to eat something other than you…” She jumped, trying to turn and whack him for his naughty words. He kept her from turning, but his eyes met hers and she swallowed as the delicious heat started to fill her again just from the sinful look in his eyes. “You really should go get dressed first.” He bent his head, kissing off droplets of water from her wet hair as confirmation of his threat. She ducked beneath his arm to scurry off to their room, squeaking as he made a show of tugging at the corner of her towel when she tried to escape. 

Safely inside their room, Kyoko plopped on their bed, rolling around in agonizing ecstasy. Every day. How was she supposed to last if every day was going to be like this? Surely her heart would burst. She sighed happily, staring at the ceiling with a silly grin on her face, enjoying the feeling of her body and mind being completely relaxed. 

Pans clanked in the kitchen, reminding her of the threat of Kuon Cooking. She got dressed quickly and went to replace him before he got farther than pulling out supplies for a fruit salad, shooing him off to change as well. 

Cutting grapefruit and oranges with care, Kyoko’s mind drifted back to the night. She no longer felt full to the brim with anxiety; Kuu and Julie knew and would do all they could to protect his identity. She worried at her lip as she added grapes and strawberries to the pile. She and Kuon needed a plan for the BHI tomorrow. Seiji Shingai would be almost certain to recognize Tsuruga Ren in Cain Heel if he had recognized a no-name talento like herself that easily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guilty, guilty, guilty! I admit I wanted to write Cain and Tora having some ridiculous swimming contest at Quincey's just for the excuse to describe those two in banana hammocks. But Cain would never actually leave Setsu! So instead, we move on from the delights of CainXTora to BROTHER BUBBLE TUBBIES awwwww 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Persie loves you! Thanks for the awesome R&Rs!! Maybe Tora will show up with Quincey for the premiere-- I have a feeling B.J. is just his style ;-) 


	100. Hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mental and physical abuse / non-explicit allusions to sexual assault.

The microphone hissed with feedback as his shaky hand pulled it too far toward the set-up. Sho cursed, shoving it back quickly with an apologetic wave at the crew.

First day on set, and he was running high on nerves and caffeine.

This city was supposed to be a place you could lose yourself. He felt lost alright, but also far too intimately known. Mocking tidbits carefully revealing the plundering of Sho's memories were whispered in his ear at a crowded street corner, written on his receipt at the coffeehouse, slid under his door with the mail.

He started to sing, the lyrics for _Dreamer_ rolling mindlessly off his tongue.

It itched at him, this feeling of being followed. Where he lived, where he shopped, whether he took the straight path or a winding one- the whispers proved he knew.

He knew about Kyoko. When he'd hit her and shown them both just how selfish he could be. When he'd forced a kiss on her— twice— as the only way he could think to try and fix what was broken. It hadn't worked. Looking back he could see how his attempts to fix her had never moved past his own prideful defense mechanisms.

He knew about the hours of waiting, the humiliating apology, the thrown roses, the whisky, the music, the beach.

Sho missed one of the syncopated beats, his jaw held a little too tight for the pace demanded.

Only one thing he hadn't hinted at knowing yet. Maybe he'd buried it deep enough. Maybe trying to keep it a secret even from himself had locked it away from the vision prying its way into his mind like a rusty crowbar on rotted wood.

He couldn't let him touch him again.

He reached the end of the song almost without realizing it, the last note catching breathy and slightly too high. He shifted the papers in front of him, then looked up and caught Shoko's quizzical stare. Shit, had he been that off?

She leaned over and whispered in the producer's ear. The intercom buzzed a soft warning before her voice filled his ears. "Break time, Sho. We'll start again tomorrow." A click, and her voice was once again inaudible to him, her lips moving as she spoke hurriedly to the men around the sound table before waving to him.

She'd gotten here last night, dumping her bags comfortably by the end of his bed. He'd felt strangely relieved. Her presence would mean warmth, maybe even intimacy, a barrier against the strangeness of his unfolding dance with the ex-singer. But when his eyes sought hers, he saw not comfort but the baseless pity of a mother looking at a kid who just needs a nap. Sho balked, grabbing her suitcase and asking her to get her own room. She'd fought him briefly, protesting the expense, protesting his health - a first, for Sho - but had caved after only a few sentences.

As he'd thought she would. Shoko had never been able to see past his first few layers unless it smacked her in the face. It was why she hadn't been his call; why he honestly couldn't make himself care when or how she arrived in NY. She was convenient for negotiating contracts and a source of takeout menus. God forbid he ever found a more meddlesome manager. His mind drifted to Kyoko and he grimaced. She'd wanted to burrow her way into every single facet of his life, stagnating both of their futures with her desperate need to be his. Sho packed his guitar carefully, letting his mind wander over their current… whatever-it-was. Once-friendship.

He shoved the pick and his music sheets into the outer pocket of his case furiously. It was better. Distance. Honesty. Independence. It was better.

He patted the air at Shoko, letting her know she could take her time. She nodded, typing swiftly on her phone. His buzzed.

-Meet you at the hotel. Dinner at 7.

A nod. He left.

People jostled him on the sidewalk. A hand grazed the bare skin by his wrist, making Sho jump, but the vacant jolt still burned in his brain from _Mission_ didn't surface. Just a passerby. He shifted the guitar case, walking marginally faster, trying to hide his own anxiety from himself.

He stopped for a slice of pizza from one of the open-air eateries dealing the New York classic beneath a weather-beaten and smoke stained awning. A reflection in the glass caught his eye, white hair over white skin, light purple-gray eyes looking directly at him. He whipped around to search the crowd, ignoring the proffered slice until the irritated cashier bumped the paper plate into his shoulder, smudging grease on his red leather jacket. Sho grimaced, taking the pizza but leaving no tip.

He was being paranoid. That bastard loved mind games— this was just a new version of Karuizawa. He'd let himself get pulled under by his tricks then. Not this time. This time he could be ready. He could find the fire again. Let the vampire-wannabe try and touch him. He'd smash his skull in.

_If I can move_. He shook his head to erase the treasonous thoughts. The greasy pizza sat heavy in his stomach as he slid his card to unlock the solid hotel room door, pushing it open with his shoulder. He jerked his elbow over to smack the hallway light, illuminating the entrance.

"Welcome home." Reino's voice punctuated the stillness of the twilight room. Sho froze, key card sliding out of his hand to the floor. He bent to grab it, every muscle in his body taut as he fought the instinct to turn and run. The heavy door clicked shut behind him, a wordless signal to stay.

He could fight. He'd done it before. He was no pussy to back down just because of a few weird notes and one bad trip at a bar.

"F* off," he cursed, hanging his guitar up on the back of the door. "Are you homeless or something? Why the hell are you in my room?"

Reino stood, slowly unwinding himself from the corner chair. He made no move to close the distance between them. "You're unexpectedly fun, Shotaro. I've been so bored lately."

"Go f* a pigeon then," Sho taunted. "Something as disease-ridden as you."

Reino's laugh was unsettlingly bright. "Quite the visual," he murmured. "I hope you take more care when you're writing lyrics."

Fists tight, Sho turned to fully face him. Reino's calm stance mocked Sho's tension, his hands loose by his sides, his head cocked slightly, obscuring one eye with silvery wisps of hair.

"Leave." The word dredged up a wall of memories he didn't want to face. Reino must've seen something flicker across his face because he started to cross the room, his fingers outstretched as if already anticipating the flow of energy at his touch. Sho didn't have much time.

He uncoiled with a growl, springing down the hallway. He batted away Reino's hand, raising his fist to strike at his jawline. The creep ducked last second, fist grazing the skin near his ear. A lithe hand snaked up fast as a punch, gripping Sho's arm below the elbow and twisting it down and away.

Each touch seared, black mist fogging the corners of his vision for a flash before clearing. It was difficult to react; he felt snared, his arms caught in sticky webs. Reino's smile grew, deepening until a final lunge closed the distance between them. He slammed his weight into Sho, pinning him against the wall, his fingers slithering along the length of Sho's neck to twist into his hair.

Sho jerked, trying to buck him off. His hands scrabbled uselessly off Reino's chest as the dark mist spread from his vision, filling the space, curling around his body.

"I've found ways to fill my time," Reino's voice whispered in his ear. "To strengthen what was lacking."

"As if, asshole—"

Reino's mouth slammed onto his, the movement an attack. Sho choked, trying to bring his knee up to slam into his groin, but he just shifted, shoving his legs between Sho's and pressing tight to trap him fully against the wall. He bit down, his hand scrabbling along the wall for something, anything to use as a weapon. Fingers found a lightswitch and jerked up under it, filling the room with sudden brightness.

It was so much worse than the soft darkness. Then he could pretend he was actually restrained; that the forces holding him down were solid, real, strong. Now his pulse raced wildly against his skin as he twisted, trying to get away from his reflection in the mirror across the small hallway. He had been certain there were ropes— chains— that somehow the creep had bound him too quickly for him to catch. The light showed it to be a total lie. A dark cloud twisted suffocatingly up him. He fought back rising bile.

He gasped, ripping his head to the side, breaking Reino's kiss. His mouth tasted metallic and cold. "What the f* is wrong with you?" He forced the words out, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Reino's tongue curled out, flicking over his lips slowly. "You want it."

"Don't screw with me, I'm not a—"

Dark laughter rolled out of Reino like a wave crashing over Sho. His finger pressed against Sho's lip, drawing the same tortuous line as at _Mission_. Purple eyes flickered in the fluorescent light, studying Sho. "A what, Shotaro?" His voice mocked liltingly. "I'm in your head…" Whispers over his skin. "I know what you want."

Sho bit his lip, trying to twist away, pushing uselessly against Reino's chest. Why the hell was the bastard so strong?

_Or are you just weak…_

Sho felt lips wet on his neck, their heat making him chilled to his bone. Reino's tongue caressed his skin, leaving an icy trail. He shivered, his hands clutched in desperate fists. The dark cloud surrounded him still, holding him fast.

"I don't — care —" he forced out.

"Mmmm," Reino's voice purred. "Your body begs to differ." His long fingers drew Sho's shirt slowly up, nails digging in to etch red marks up his torso. Sho watched, transfixed, as his skin welted beneath the other man's touch. The mirror seemed to pulse as he drew his arms around Sho.

"I can show you what pain means, Shotaro." His teeth bit down on Sho's shoulder. Sho saw his own eyes tighten, his jaw taut as he struggled against the sensations. "Or… pleasure." Reino's tongue swirled over the bite mark, his mouth now warm. Too warm— hot. Sho cried out, trying to shift away but held like a drawn bowstring.

"My favorite," Reino drawled, his fingers crossing to caress Sho's chest, "is when the two intertwine." His eyes flew open and locked with Sho's as his hands and mouth etched themselves on Sho's skin, pulling forth pain and then soothing it away over and over.

Sho felt his body start to tremble, his knees giving way. He needed to find his strength. He needed to punch the bastard senseless. He grimaced.

What was the point?

His head fell forward, breathing ragged. At least he wasn't alone.

Reino laughed, his mouth too close to Sho's ear, the sound sharp and painful. "True— and so desperately sad." Sho sank forward against the other man as everything went black.

He woke up to skin itching beneath purple welts he refused to remember. Lower lip throbbed; a light touch revealed sticky blood. The air conditioning unit clicked on, goosebumps forming on his bare chest as the cool air wafted over him, clearing away some of the oppressive stale heat lingering on the sheets. The waistline of his pants pressed uncomfortably on a new bruise where the other man's knee had dug in, pinning him to the mattress.

It was so different. So alien to the thrill pulsing through his veins whenever _he'd_ drawn near. Both men made his heart rush, doubling its efforts to pump life into Sho as his brain fought to stall the world. One, he wanted to freeze time so he could stop and _be_. Drown himself in the scent and touch and feel of the moment. The other so he could just plain drown. He'd been able to fight back before. The anger and pride in him had risen up and crashed over the ex-singer, mutilating him and pressing Sho forward to the top.

What had changed? He threw his arm over his face, trying to go back and summon the strength that was. Had Reino grown that much more powerful? Or was it-

Kyoko?

Last time, she'd been at the center of it. A white-hot need to prove himself to her, to not fall from his place in her mind, to force her to see everything she was missing by not throwing herself at his feet- and to repent. He'd hurt her and needed to fling that hurt onto someone else.

Sho's laugh escaped bitterly, ground between his teeth into ashes of humor. He finally understood. Palms ground into his eyes trying desperately to stop the escape of tears. This is what she felt. When he'd struck her - when he'd forced himself on her, stealing her first kiss for his own satisfaction. When she'd been caught, alone, slowly being undone by long white fingers tracing down her back and the one to show up hadn't been the one she wanted, but her first attacker.

He thought about calling her. What would he say? "I'm sorry," had worked so damn well last time.

The phone stayed on the nightstand. Sleep escaped him.

He punched a pillow, rolling over to fling it across the room at the hall mirror.

Sho knew now why he had kept that poster above his bed. In the dark of his hotel room, staring at the white-turned-gray ceiling, he could see him, his face framed by curls damp from a shower, that unruly one begging to be pushed back but slipping forward instead as he leaned closer to Sho.

He was there every sleepless night, waiting on him to dream while he was still awake. He'd crossed half the world running from it, seeking fresh space, free air - and still he waited. Why not cover the space with a poster and pretend he wasn't hallucinating? Pretend it was all actually a 2D image and not a longing so intense he swore he could reach up and feel the warmth of his lips. Pretend he wasn't alone.

Damn it, Koga.

Sho rolled over onto his side, hugging his arms around his chilly torso. Fingers grazed one of the marks, making him twitch at the contact. It hadn't happened. Nothing happened.

He gave up on sleep and padded over to the small desk, pulling out the hotel stationary to write.


	101. Can You Believe It, Karen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mental abuse.

Shoko’s brows knit as she thumbed through the pile of stationary he’d plopped in her lap that next morning. She rubbed her temple, dragging her hand around to rest over her lips as she read. Her eyes flashed up to him, something like concern in their depths. 

“Not your usual style,” she said in a too-soft voice. Sho forced his hand to stay by his side as she examined him. Had he done the eyeliner right? He wanted to style his hair back again; he’d gotten used to it up and out of his face, but the side swept bang covered one of his eyes fully. He needed to hide the marks somehow, and 4 a.m. desperation had led him to a corner store and an attempt at a gothic style. He could link it to the new songs, lyrics full of dark dreams and aching without resolution. 

“Undead,” he said simply. She frowned at him in silent question. “The album title.” 

“Dramatic…” Her word trailed off. He could tell she was debating whether to push farther. He knew the lyrics and score were golden. She wouldn’t push too hard. The material was guaranteed to be a hit, and she never saw past his first layer. She wouldn’t see. 

_ Couldn’t let her see.  _

Sho turned, shifting the collar on his floor-sweeping bruise-colored jacket to sit more fully over the darkest mark. His eyes in the waist-high mirror were heavy and red from too many nights of not enough sleep. He fidgeted with one of the heavy buckles crisscrossing his torso. Hands trembled at the memory of being trapped, held by cloudy chains tighter than the buckles -- he shook his head, trying to free the memory of shame. 

The outfit was a deliberate message to Reino. Sho’s eyes were firm as he fastened the buckle tighter, glistening with determination. He could trap his body. He could abuse it, mark it, etch it and not be stopped.

But Fuwa Sho would use it. He was an artist. He would draw from the pain and throw it into words, bringing the heat of life and need to the darkness. 

Reino could try and burn him down. He’d take it all and burn down the world. 

Papers shuffled behind him. He caught Shoko’s eye in the mirror, her appraisal now confident and bright. She’d been watching him, measuring, and had not found him wanting. 

Top layer. 

\--

“Slower-- make it feel like a heartbeat,” Sho threw over his shoulder, guiding the drummer. The studio had a whole band in for today’s takes of vocals and music. It was a one-and-done run through, building each song’s layers in a matter of two or three practice runs and a final take. The end goal was gritty, raw music with the visceral feeling of live performances. It was risky, and a style of recording usually only done by bands that had toured together for years. 

He pulled the studio mic in close, nodding at the sound team. He raised his hand, fingers poised like a gun. A trigger pull and the bass-line started, throbbing like an incoming storm. Two measures, eight beats. First words -- spoken hoarsely, unleashing the reel of guitar. 

“Let’s burn it down.”

\--

Whisky sloshed against glass as he sat and watched Shoko. She was ebullient, her hands both waving freely, phone capriciously clasped between neck and shoulder while she gushed. 

“Nearly half-- can you believe it? No, no retakes needed. It was magic. The  _ emotion _ \-- yes, yes, let’s do the late night show. No, morning show, not for Sho. Too cranky. The emotion! It’s going to be great-- live on TV, perfect. Ok, 11 p.m. Wednesday. And Thursday? Got it. No, we film that weekend. MV. He’s always released with one. We could, sure. I’ll ask. Ok-- bye.”

Her eyes glittered as she grabbed the phone from her shoulder, sliding it into her bag to scribble notes in her calendar book. The phone buzzed again; she winked at him and picked it up. He sipped his drink slowly, wanting to prolong the burn. 

He didn’t care to listen to her prattle anymore. She’d tell him where he needed to be and when. Someone else would decide what he’d wear, how he’d look, what songs he’d sing. He wanted to try one of those cosmo drinks, it looked fruity. 

On second thought, best stay away from strawberry-colored drinks. 

Sho slung the rest of the whisky down his throat, hissing as the spicy scent filled his nostrils from the inside. “Burns,” he whispered to himself. Shoko looked over the table at him and mouthed some words. 

_ Our Wicked Lady _

He licked his lips. Great song title. Waited til she hung up to shrug his lack of comprehension. 

“Rooftop concert, Friday night. Brooklyn music scene! Sho, this is going to be--”

“Rooftop?” He sneered. “Seats, what, 150?” 

She tapped her pen on the calendar book. 

“You want me to sing to a crowd the size of a loser’s class reunion when I’ve sold out entire arenas back home?” He sat back in the booth angrily, his face twisted. This was not why he’d come halfway across the world. 

Arguably, neither was singing to sold-out arenas, but she didn’t need to know that. 

“175. Of the top label reps, talent scouts and paparazzi.” 

He looked at her skeptically. 

“And some models,” she concluded, her hands opening in surrender. 

“At least 20. None taller than me.” 

“Done,” she said, smiling. She thought she’d won. He rolled the empty glass between his hands. 

The bartender loomed suddenly tall next to their table, his dark hair shading his eyes, the artsy-fartsy blue fringe tucked behind his ear. He placed a crimson drink in front of Sho, waiting to collect the empty glass still pinned between suddenly sweaty palms. 

“What’s this,” Sho intoned. 

“Half Blood Prince,” the man said, listing out its contents professionally. “Bourbon, pomegranate juice, maple syrup, lemon juice.”

“No,” Sho paused, only his eyes betraying his unease as they darted around the room, looking for their mark. “I didn’t order it.” 

The bartender shrugged. “Ticket came through for your table.” He gestured at the glass. “Tab’s paid.” 

Sho swore under his breath. He shoved the cocktail over to Shoko. 

“I’m going home.” 

“Wait,” Shoko said, reaching out to snag his coat sleeve. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

Sho frowned at her, his face masked with disdain. 

She sighed. “I know it’s different. New York is a lot to take in. I can set up a more casual get-together— invite some other musicians and artists from our part of the world?” She tilted her head, her smile inviting. “Get some favorite foods catered to celebrate the wrap of the album.” 

He wrinkled his nose at her, his voice laced with sarcasm as he slid out of the booth. “Gee, thanks mom.” 

Her hand tapped his lightly, drawing his gaze back to her in time to see her raised eyebrows and cross glare. He sighed dramatically. 

“Make sure there’s strawberry pudding.” 

Shoko held the blood red drink up to him in cheers. Her face crinkled with distaste after the first sip. “I’m so not a bourbon girl,” she said, pushing the drink away. 

—

Shoko sparkled as she made the rounds, pointing her guests to the drinks stuffed in ice barrels at the corners of the room, asking after new releases and tour dates, drawing one after the other to come and “chat” with him. The latest still held the high ground on the stool next to him, a K-Pop starlet with bleach and pink hair. She kept talking about a collab she’d pulled with Jackson Wang. Sho kept wanting to say “Jackson Wank” but he didn’t think she’d find it funny. 

He didn’t really either. He eyed the pudding pile slantwise. She’d taken him at his word. There were probably 500 cups there. If she’d been Kyoko she would’ve known he didn’t actually mean he wanted pudding there. No way he was eating a cup of pink pudding in front of this crowd. 

_ Berry boy _ . 

Sho gritted his teeth, nodding mindlessly at the starlet. Shoko was making her way over with another “new friend.” God, he was tired. If this is what Kyoko meant when she told him he should make some friends, he wanted none of it. What he wanted was to go back to his hotel room and watch old dating shows and mock the contestants. With his pile of pudding. And some pillows. Maybe a couple hundred beers. 

“Moping, I see.” The voice was quiet but ran like ice through his veins. Don’t react. Don’t run. Sho gripped his own wrist, punching his fingers into the space between the bones, feeling his pulse twitch beneath the pressure. 

Jackson Wang Girl leaned around him. “Ooh, is that good? It’s such a weird snack for a party, I wasn’t gonna go for it, but—“ 

“Want to try?” The long-handled spoon slid into Sho’s peripheral vision, reaching out toward the girl’s mouth. Her smile crumpled, then shot back with less brightness and more pressure. 

“No— ah, I think I’ll just go get my own,” she said, sliding off the chair with a bounce. 

Reino stepped around to fill her space, leaning to whisper in Sho’s ear just as Shoko arrived, boy band in tow. “More for us.” He held the spoon out to Sho, eyebrows raised in question over darkly shining purple irises. Sho grimaced, drawing a laugh out of Reino as he licked the spoon clean himself.

“Sho-kun, these are the Arashi brothers, they’re recording with—oh, Reino-san, hello!” 

Reino smiled wolfishly around his spoon. “Shoko-san.”

Sho pushed off his stool, grabbing Shoko’s elbow to pull her in close. “A word, manager,” he said. 

Shoko’s grin was fake, but her voice held steady as she waved at the Arashis and Reino. “Excuse us.”

The balcony door caught, grinding open with a jarring squeal that drew most faces towards them as he shoved his manager out into the small moonlit space. 

“What the f***, Shoko?”

She threw her hands out in dismay. “Rude!” 

He cut her off. “Reino! The Beagle! Do you not remember what he did to Kyoko? And you still—“

“Of course I remember, I’m not an idiot.” She shook her finger at him. Dammit, she really was acting like his mom. What did he ever find attractive in her? “I also remember the effect he had on you.” 

Sho swallowed his retort. “What?” 

The balcony door slid open again, the noise like teeth grinding. 

“She means you spent one week with me and rose to legendary status on the Billboard charts,” Reino said, pudding cup discarded.

Sho scoffed. “No one asked—“ 

Reino held his hand up, patting the air. “Let me start with an apology. I was bored. My friends wanted to make music. I didn’t— so we compromised. Stealing your music was far more fun.” His grin was all teeth. He turned to Shoko, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m not in music anymore. I’ve found far more interesting pursuits.” 

The way he drew out the word interesting made Sho’s skin crawl. He felt like he was a science experiment, slowly being dissected under a microscope. Reino shifted his stance, resting his hand on the balcony next to Sho’s, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off skin. 

“It’s a big city, though,” he said, his voice tinted with longing. “And it gets lonesome.” Sho felt his skin start to burn. He wanted to rip his hand away and run but he refused to be the first to flinch in this game of chicken. Reino turned his head to Shoko. “Thank you for thinking of me.” 

Sho made mock gagging sounds, evoking a stern look from Shoko. 

“Of course,” she said. She pointed at Sho. “Behave.” With a smile at her vexsome charge she was gone, back to curry favor with the room full of Jackson Wankers. 

“Drink?” Reino offered, turning to face Sho, his skin glowing alabaster white in the moonlight. When Sho didn’t respond, he shrugged. “So much for trying to be friends.” He yawned theatrically, waving loosely at Sho. “Interesting style. Making a statement for someone?” 

Sho bit back a string of foul words. He felt sick, his emotions careening wildly from anger to fear to rage to shame. He gripped the railing tightly, wanting to rip it out of the ground as if by doing so he could somehow rip the shame out of himself. He suddenly hated his outfit, his hair, his need to do anything for this prick. 

_ Beagle _ . He’s a shitty dog. A faker. The litany ran through his mind over and over. He gave up, not me. He ran, not me. Beagle. Beagle. Beagle.

“You’re a joke.” The words came out more bitter than he’d hoped. “Beagle.”

Reino smirked. “Reminiscing,” he said simply. He leaned back against the railing, eyes on the stars, perfectly at ease. “I don’t mind the name she gave us.” 

Sho rolled his eyes. He put on his best sneer and turned to face Reino, balling his hands into fists. 

“Listen. I don’t know what you get off on, but you need to back the F off.” 

“Or…?” Reino lolled his head to the side, unconvinced. 

“Kyoko won’t come for me,” Sho spat the words at him. “She couldn’t care less.” 

Reino hummed. He spun his fingers, tracing constellations as he spoke. “There’s a tie that binds two people in love. Yours may be twisted and fractured, but when I show her just how broken you can be she won’t have a choice except to come save you.” 

“I don’t love Kyoko!”

“Oh I know…” Reino dropped his hands, folding them together to peer at Sho over steepled fingers. “But not all love is erotic. You’ve yet to learn that.” 

“Hah!” The laugh was sharp like daggers as it flew out of Sho’s mouth. “You, teaching me about love! Hah!” He spun, shoving off the railing hard enough to make it rattle. The blasted balcony door erupted open with enough noise to rally an army, hushing the small crowd packed inside. 

Sho leered, bowing ironically at his audience. “Fuwa Sho, exit stage right,” he pronounced, wheeling to stalk out the door.

He walked for the exit as quickly as possible. He hadn’t touched him. He made it. He freaking made it! Hands clenched and unclenches in excitement at his sides, his eyes alight with determination. He was going to get the tour signed and sealed and get the hell out of this city. But first— 

The couch beckoned him, cushy and empty and pointed straight the tv. He cracked open a beer and collapsed, wincing with annoyance at the stray buckle digging into his side. Shirt flew off as quickly as a belt-laced shirt could, landing with a jangle on the floor in front of the tv. Sho sighed victoriously, stretching languidly as he turned on the tv and flipped looking for the most inane show possible. 

A laugh escaped him, the tv on some random infomercial Americans seemed drawn to. He hadn’t touched him. Sho sipped his beer. It all seemed so far away. A dream. He swirled the liquid inside the bottle, watching it more than the spunky ladies advertising laundry detergent. 

_ And all that is ten dollars off, can you believe it Karen? But wait, there’s more—  _

Maybe it had been a dream. He’d woken up alone. Some twisted projection from everything he was dealing with. He sipped his beer, swishing it around his mouth, testing the sensations before he downed the bottle and grabbed a second off the table. 

_ Removes even the darkest wine stains from your last party!  _

He hadn’t touched him. Sho’s skin prickled. His phone buzzed with a new message, the text short enough to show on the preview as he automatically glanced over.

_ — _ I won’t let them fade. 

Sho’s hand went clammy, palm slick on the bottle. A second message alert. A photo. He darted his hand out to swipe up, suddenly desperate to see it and know. 

_ I can’t believe my eyes, Debbie— do you see this? It’s just like new!  _

It was him. Hands splayed limp above his head, lips open in unconscious abandon. Neck and torso covered in a leper’s bruises eating away the space between, turning flesh the color of his eyes. 

He flung himself off the couch, consumed with a need to see. To measure how long he had left.

The mirror laughed at him, lurid purple marks lightening to brown and green. Sho roared, punching at his reflection, shattering the mirror. He pulled back bloody knuckles, adrenaline dancing through his veins as Karen bleated enthusiastically into the dim room. 

_ And at that price we’re practically giving it away— act now or you’re going to miss out!  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o I'm on tumblr for no good reason! I'll post spoilers sometimes as I scribble, so if that's your thing come join me! @persephonejinmi
> 
> ALSO TODAY WAS NUTS IN MOM LIFE LAND so if you had a crazy day too -- I feel you!!! We did it! We made it!!
> 
> Reino's Cocktail -- IF YOU WANNA JOIN  
> 1/4 cup pomegranate juice  
> 1 1/2 ounces bourbon  
> 1/2 ounce raspberry liquor (Chambord)  
> juice from 1/2 a lemon  
> 1 teaspoon pure maple syrup, more or less to taste  
> pomegranate arils, for serving


	102. The Silver Screen

She wasn’t sure which was more unnerving, the rapid fire flashes burning her retinas or the gentle pressure of his hand in hers as they walked down the red carpet. 

Give her a lifetime and she wouldn’t be used to the feeling of this man— this larger than life dream— walking beside her, claiming her as his in front of millions of watching eyes.

Granted, tonight she was his sister. Setsu’s pride welled up fierce and vibrant inside her, pooling in her smirk as she pulled Cain in tighter when they stopped for the obligatory pose. Face tilted up towards his, hips pressed into him, fingers laced possessively in his jacket hem. 

Mine

Mine

Mine—

His arm cinched around her, turning her to walk away from the cluster of photographers calling out for another pose, his body’s heat confirming his need for her more than words ever could. She eyed the crowds now surrounding them, filling the grand hall with noise and light and life. 

“We should’ve just come for our film,” she whined, pitched for his ears alone. 

Cain grunted, rubbing his hand on her bare shoulder. 

Their film wouldn’t air for three hours. Setsu thought about everything she could’ve done with that time. Painted her nails. Read the next chapter of  _ Death Note _ . Fed her brother his favorite food, not this expensive pile of catered frou-frou. Packed their bags for home. Cain… Cain could’ve fit in one bubble bath. Her smile was a secret self-indulgence as she imagined her long-limbed brother tucked into the tub, making bubble monsters. 

Cain grunted again. He was watching her, a fleeting smile darting across his lips in answer to her expression. She could tell he wanted to know what she was thinking. She leaned up and pecked him on the cheek, then pulled him into the screening for MOMO, the only other horror flick in the competition. 

Two and a half hours later found her snoring, chain dangling over her brother’s chest as she slumped gracelessly on his broad shoulder. The cinema had emptied around them, people chattering over the frightful gore and suspense of the South African film. Cain smoothed her hair away from her face, the gentle action just enough to rouse her ponderously. 

“You fell asleep during the axe murder,” he said drily. 

Setsu stretched languidly, shrugged. “I got bored.” 

He poked her cheek, his eyes full of mirth. “Don’t you fall asleep during my scenes.” 

Setsu’s mouth gaped. That her brother could even suggest she’d-- he stood, winking at her. He deserved the silent treatment for that tease. Taunting her about not being a good sister. 

“I wouldn’t miss a second of you,” she said tensely, her hands on her hips. 

He turned, his eyes alight with mirth and suddenly she could see it. This was his place— his dream. He’d been pushing so hard, for so long, and he was here. People were going to see him; some of the same people that had seen his father. He stepped toward her, childlike passion filling his demeanor. One large hand scooped down around her chin, cradling her face as he leaned close to whisper, “I love you.” 

Just as swiftly he turned, his long black silk jacket swirling behind him, his hand reaching back to entangle with hers, pulling her stumbling after him. He was too bright sometimes. She blinked, squeezing back tears. 

The crowds outside enveloped them again, a seething mass of glitter and diamonds and silk merging and reforming as they sifted into the cinemas for the next viewings. Short films, documentaries, feature lengths— there, Director Konoe waited by the cinema for First Features.  _ Tragic Marker _ ’s poster loomed over the entrance, bloodshot eyes filled with promises of pain. He saw them and waved timidly, beckoning them to a purple-draped table dotted with name placards. 

Konoe held court for a brief press release as the cinema filled to capacity. Setsu stood just to the side, back far enough to be unobtrusive yet clearly marking the table’s rightmost occupant as her territory. Cain slouched, responding to all questions with a grunt, varying only his pitch to indicate rough meaning, leaving Konoe to interpret. One reporter snuck around the side, directing a question to her. She snarled a smile, not even bothering to listen for comprehension. He swallowed hard and backed away, his eyes flicking to her brother. 

Finally Konoe patted the air to signal the conclusion of the mini-conference; standing to bow politely at the corps. Cain shoved back, the table jarred forward by his movement, scraping hard on the wood floors. A curt nod; he turned and grabbed Setsu by the elbow, sweeping her into the dimly lit theater. Konoe led them to the box seats midway down the theater, holding his hand out to allow the Heels first entrance. 

Cain stopped. He turned to Konoe, his face blanked of emotion. Konoe trembled slightly, his grin shaky as he started to make excuses for the seats. Without a word, Cain bent forward, his long hair sweeping over his features as he dipped a strangely graceful bow to the director. Konoe blanched, reaching to press Cain up, but he remained still, frozen in a gesture of respect. Finally, Konoe bowed too, and Cain rose, holding his hand out to ask the director to enter first. 

Setsu moved to follow after Konoe, the actress buried within her cartwheeling with joy over being able to show the slightest respect to their esteemed and long-suffering Director-sama. A hand on her shoulder and a gentle, “Pardon me,” stopped her momentarily. It was Seiji-san. 

He arched his neck in a small bow for her, his voice soft. “I greatly look forward to this premiere,” he said. “You must introduce me to your… brother afterwards.” 

She stiffened. A slash of a nod, then to her seat next to Cain.

“He wants to meet you,” she whispered urgently. 

Cain reached his hand over, engulfing her small palm with his. He said nothing, just rubbed tiny circles of comfort over her skin with his thumb. 

The movie was a riot of death and hauntingly beautiful fight scenes, her brother drifting weightlessly as he haunted Murasame. To her eyes it was a ballet in blacks whites and vibrant cardinal red, her eyes searching hungrily for the form of her brother in the mists. He was seldom fully revealed, never heard — a nightstalker made more terrifying because you couldn’t ever pin down what he looked like. She shouted for joy when his grotesque face loomed full-screen, her cry blotted out by the screams echoing through the massive theater. 

The film wrapped to dead silence as BJ’s final promise of return scrawled across the screen. Konoe gripped the armrests, his face fixated on the rolling credits with desperation. He stood and bowed — something in the movement freed the audience from their trance and the room erupted with thunderous applause. Konoe almost sagged beneath the weight of his relief, gesturing wildly for Cain to stand beside him. He motioned to the crowd, swinging his arm wide in proud introduction as Cain bowed stoically under another blast of cheers and claps.

Setsu let a smile creep across her face. He was doing it. Step by step, he was forging his way across the world by his own power. 

The awards ceremony later that evening was so far from her cup of tea, to borrow a local sentiment, it was almost embarrassing. For everyone else, of course. For Setsu, it was just boring. She was ready to get out of here— to stop swirling champagne she wasn’t supposed to drink but did anyway, to stop mincing her way through rich foods, most of all to stop watching people all the annoying clingy cloying people parading by her brother’s seat asking for autographs, handing out cards, touching him, pawing him, trying to mark his memory with their scents when they all just needed to scurry the hell away. 

“Rodents,” she muttered, blowing on her bangs and inching her chair even closer to Cain’s, putting his ankle well within reach so she could twine her foot around it. 

“Agreed,” Seiji said, sliding into the seat next to her. She looked up with a start, accidentally jerking her brother slightly as she pulled her foot back. He turned reflexively and locked eyes with Seiji. 

The Demon of the Silver Screen’s gaze slid over to her, anchoring as his smile widened. He reached in his pocket and held a silvery business card out to her, his gaze flirting back to her brother momentarily. 

“It’s a closed audition,” he said, his tone oddly hushed. “I’m in charge of rounding up some talent.” He flicked at the card with a long finger when she didn’t immediately take it. “First call is in two weeks — both of you should submit tapes. I’ll send you scripts if you agree, but you would be under a non-disclosure clause.” 

“Both of us?” Setsu cocked her head at him. 

His smile spread slower than molasses over his face. “If you think I still don’t know who you two are you are more of a problem than I had imagined.” 

Cain’s low grunt held both a threat and a taunt in it. Seiji shrugged. 

“I saw your work.” He made a vague gesture somehow covering her entire person and the screen hanging at the front of the room. He nodded at Cain. “If he can pull of a character that dark, he’d be an excellent fit for the villain in this project. I hadn’t pegged you for it before, and for that I’m sorry.” His gaze turned wistful as he looked out over the crowd. “When I think of all we could’ve done with Ring-Doh…” She saw her brother flinch. Seiji sighed, his slick smile returning. “Both of you.”

Setsu took the card, certain of her decision. “Send us the details. We’ll do it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses what Seiji’s movie is??


	103. Boxers or Briefs?

Setsu rubbed the business card between her fingers as she leaned into her brother’s side. His silk jacket was oddly soft beneath her touch; she was used to leather, hard edges and buckles and zippers. He looked so good in it, the way the fabric melded to his skin, giving off not-so-delicate hints of corded muscles. Tonight had been a good night. Konoe has almost passed out giving his acceptance speech for winning the Sutherland Trophy for most innovative first feature, beckoning Cain up on stage to receive it with him. The actress buried inside her was about to explode with joy at the memory of her brother ascending the stairs, his eyes steely but a tiny flicker of a smile playing across his lips. She felt a strange pink-hued lightness tinting her vision and making her lightheaded from the sheer weight of excited happiness bottled up in her hidden persona. Setsu’s tongue flicked out, wetting her lips. She burrowed farther into her nii-san’s side. 

Tomorrow they headed home. Cain’s hand stroked her hair, carefully not disturbing the intricate braids Earl Mandy’s stylist had woven to match the cords twining around her torso, obscuring the glimpses of her skin just visible beneath the dark, shimmering black lace. She leaned back awkwardly to catch his eye, unspoken triumph passing between them at the contact. 

“I want to do it,” he said softly, his eyes shifting to the street ahead of them. 

Setsu swallowed hard. “...it?” Her cheeks flushed pink. She bit her lip, looking at the cabbie. 

Cain’s hand drifted down to play with her earlobe, tugging slightly as his stare grew more pensive. “The audition.” 

She let her breath out in a whoosh, relief and disappointment warring within her. 

“It’s time,” he said. The words were simple, but she knew him like she knew her soul and she could hear the past echoing up through his determination. He broke his gaze away from the street, looking down at her, brow furrowed. “This trip… we’ve been hiding the entire time.” Her eyes shifted to the cabbie again. 

“Brother--”

“I know who I am,” he said, his voice like velvet. “And thanks to you, I can accept him again. I’m done with hiding.” 

Her breath hitched. She sat up, turning in her seat to face him, the seat belt digging into her waist. “You mean--”

He nodded. A dark smile played across his features, his eyes shimmering with excitement. “It’s time for a funeral.” 

  
  


__

The trip home flew by. Literally. Figuratively. All the -lys. Kyoko bounced as she walked down the long hallway after customs, Kuon trailing one step behind her, his presence a wellspring of nervous energy. They were home -- and it was time. In the movies, when you came home from a transformative trip there was always a welcome party. She tipped up on her toes, flitting down the hallway, eyes wide and striving to be the first to take in the sight of the space beyond the exit doors. 

A high-pitched squeal started down in the depths of her soul, boiling up out of her gut, through her lungs, roaring into her heart and forcing its way out of her throat with a blast of unadulterated joy as the doors swept open and there-- in front of her-- it was real-- holding  _ ohmygodohmygod _ \-- holding POSTERS-- Moko and Chiori, hot pink emblems of true love! Kyoko’s form wavered, rendered insubstantial for a moment by the force of her ebullience, then snapped into laser focus with a rocket-powered launch at her friends.

“MO,” A leap--

“KO,” A twirl--

“SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!” A lunge and she slammed into her bestest friend in the whole wide world’s outstretched palm, thrown up as a fleshy shield against the perilous attack. 

Kanae huffed. “Don’t you think it’s about time you drop the  _ san _ ?” She muttered into Kyoko’s shoulder, allowing a hug. Kyoko mumbled incoherently. Chiori tapped her shoulder, arms wide, waiting patiently for her turn. A spin, eyes full of flowers, and Kyoko fell into her arms, squeezing her innards out as she tried to process Kanae’s words. 

Chiori scowled at her. “Yes, you did just get permission to drop honorifics but  _ hello _ there’s another friend here, pay attention to me too.”

Kyoko stepped back, clasping Chiori’s hands in hers. “Amamiya-san,” she began, but the look on the other girl’s face made her restart. “Chiori-chan!” Chiori raised an eyebrow. She looked at the tall brown-haired man leaning against her suitcase, watching the girls with eyes full of mirth. 

“Is he still Tsuruga-san?” She jutted her chin out at him. 

Kyoko blushed, shaking her head. The words fell out in a quiet mumble. “You know he’s… Not…”

Chiori pursed her lips, arms on hips. “Then I’m not Chiori-chan.” 

Kyoko couldn’t stand it. Her eyeballs started to leak, her mouth twisting into a smile too full of emotion to actually be called a smile. Chiori relented and drew her friend into a pink-swathed hug. She nodded at Ren over Kyoko’s shoulder. “Can we steal her?” 

He threw a pout, then raised his hands in surrender before Kanae could bite his head off with a smart retort. Kanae nodded her head in tacit acceptance; Chiori bared her teeth with delight; Kyoko… fluttered. It was the best possible description for the sweetness raging through her. She felt far too tiny to be of such notice. People were fighting over her at the airport arrivals gate. Not people -- friends. She felt like swooning. Maybe if she timed it right, she could swoon right into Moko’s--

“Don’t you dare,” Kanae grumbled at her, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the airport into their waiting taxi. Ren hollered out a farewell, waving his beautiful long arm at her and watching the trio with a wistful look in his eyes. She grabbed her phone and sent him a short message.

\--I love you. 

His eyes widened as he checked his mail, darting back up to catch hers just before Kanae pulled her through the doors. She couldn’t hear his answering commitment as he strained to be louder than the crowds, but she knew the words by heart anyways.  _ I love you too.  _

The most notable feature of Chiori’s apartment was a giant yaoi poster with the top 50 BL mangas ships and a hot pink laptop surrounded by scribbled-in notebooks. She plopped on the small couch, patting the seats beside her, twisting around to see her friends draw near, too eager to wait without watching. 

“So?” The words poured out in a gush. 

Kyoko blushed. “I got offered a chance to try out for a new part,” she said shyly.

Chiori moved to speak but Kanae cut her off. “A part? Details-- who’s the director? What’s the role?” 

“Ah…” Kyoko stumbled over her words, realizing the truth with a gasp. “I don’t know! It’s-- Seiji Shingai is working on casting, and it’s a foreign film, his contact sent him to the BFI to get connections--”

“You were at the BFI?!” Both girls gushed, voices tense with wonder. 

Kyoko’s face was the picture of accidental spilled milk. “I-- we-- President--”

“WE??!” Chiori squealed. Kanae whacked her on the back of the head. 

“Don’t tell us if you can’t,” she said grumpily. “But if you just don’t want to…” Her voice trailed off threateningly as she surveyed Kyoko. 

Kyoko swiveled, her face anguished. “Don’t-tell-okay-I-am-not-supposed-”

A chop of the hand cut her off. “Enough, enough,” Kanae chided. “It’s okay. Move on, tell us about the audition.” 

Kyoko wrung her hands, but nodded. “I promise, soon-- I have to have permission, it’s not my place to reveal. “

“It’s Tsuruga-san’s, we know,” Chiori said sagely. Kyoko jumped, staring at her in shock, but Chiori just rolled her eyes. “Airport. Obvious.”

Kanae gestured impatiently. “Audition.”

“That’s all I have,” she said sheepishly, smiling at her friends. 

Kanae threw her hands in the air, pulling her phone out and typing rapidly on it. Kyoko fidgeted, certain she’d blown it, she’d wrecked her homecoming party, this was the most beautiful day of her life and she couldn’t keep separate what needed to be separate and she’d run it all into the dirt-- Kanae’s glowing screen interrupted her, flashing a news bulletin in her face. 

“Mulan.” 

Kyoko’s brow furrowed. Chiori squeaked and shoved herself up on Kyoko’s shoulders to peer around her at Kanae’s phone. She read the text aloud eagerly, her voice mimicking a southern newscaster. 

“Director Seiji Shingai of  _ Ring-Doh  _ fame asked to coordinate with Niki Caro in the live action remake of the classic film  _ Mulan _ . Seiji brings more than 10 years of experience on the international film scene, including numerous awards from the Nippon Academy-sho for Excellent in Japanese Film. He will spearhead the talent search and is expected to serve as an advisor to Caro. Holy shit, Kyoko, he wants you to be a FREAKING DISNEY PRINCESS!” 

Kyoko’s brain short-circuited. It had been reduced to visual only, the word PRINCESS scrawled in golden glitter across her frontal lobe, flashing and twirling and wearing glass slippers. 

“P--pr--pr--” 

Kanae scrolled down, reading the article intently. “They’re filming in L.A.; that’s where my film set is located. Kyoko, if you get this part, you can stay with me. It’ll save on rent for both of us.”

PRINCESS was now overlayed with ROOMMATE. Kyoko felt dizzy. 

“St-st-st--”

“Kanae, we broke her,” Chiori whispered. 

Kanae reached into her purse and pulled out a swan-shaped flask, pulling off the stopper before waving it under Kyoko’s nose. 

“Swan princess!” Kyoko snapped out of it, her eyes searching hungrily for the perfume vial. 

“Welcome home,” Kanae said, biting her lip. “I… found this. For you.” 

“MOKOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Kyoko wrapped her friend in a bear hug, nuzzling her ferociously. “Do you mean it?” 

Kanae huffed. “I don’t give things I don’t intend people to keep.” 

“No,” Kyoko, said, blushing pink. “Being roommates.” 

It was Kanae’s turn to blush. “Unless you have other plans,” she said in a meek voice. It sounded strange coming from her mouth. 

“Like a hot live-in boyfriend,” Chiori said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Speaking of which…” 

Kyoko tried to hide her face unsuccessfully, for Kanae kept shoving her back out of her armpit with a growl. “Yes,” she said, her voice as muffled as possible. “He got asked to audition as well.”

Kanae wrinkled her nose, suddenly petulant. 

“No, not that-- though, well done, of  _ course _ you did Tsuruga-san,” Chiori said, her eyes aimed at the ceiling. She wiggled her eyebrows again. “The live-in part. It was just the two of you on this trip, right? So…” 

Kyoko blinked at her, not comprehending. 

“God, girl, is the man boxers or briefs? Eggplant or mini cucumber? Curly or shorn?” 

“GOD, Chiori, keep it in your fanfics!” Kanae roared, covering Kyoko’s ears. Kyoko had gone bright red, her hands twisted in her lap. 

“Ah,” she said, the tiniest sound escaping. “Ah, briefs…” 

Chiori and Kanae turned as one unit to stare at her, eyes wide with shock and awe. Inescapable glee slowly drew across Chiori’s face like the sun rising over the ocean.

“OH.”

“MY.”

“GOD.”

“DETAILS!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these girls! I hope we get more time for the three of them to bond and have fun together in the manga. The earlier volume and chapter covers with them on it are beautiful and my inspiration for their relationship! Also... I love making Chiori channel all her vital energy into being an over the top writer. I may have self-inserted.
> 
> ALSO MULAN. FAV DISNEY MOVIE EVER. GUILTY PLEASURE BC THAT'S WHAT FANFICS ARE FOR. KYOKO GETS TO BE A PRINCESS MAYBE IF SHE CAN MAKE THE CUT. BEST PRINCESS EVER.


	104. Olé

She took a deep breath as the doors closed behind her, adjusting the glowing pink uniform proudly so the LoveME badge stood directly over her heart. Chin high, Kyoko strode down the hallway of LME, her heart bounding in her chest. She was ready for any task the President could throw at her. Taking out the trash? She flexed her muscles. The entire building would be empty of debris in less than twenty minutes. A cranky ojou-sama to cater to? Kyoko swept a bow without breaking stride. She’d personally massage the crankiness right out of her until she was swooning with pleasure. A fiesty, underfed tiger prowling the bowels of the studio? She spun wildly, eyes flashing as imagination took over reality. She’d unhook her whip and have the kitty purring at her feet, belly up, asking for scritches before President Tarakada could say--

“Ole!” 

“Eh?!” Kyoko whirled, shocked out of her reverie, stumbling backwards as a red cape swirled in her face, momentarily blinding her.

“To my office!” His voice boomed, and before she could catch her bearings a crew of half-naked men with bull’s horns tied to their foreheads and hooves instead of shoes swept her up to fly in the air over their heads through the hallways and staircases of LME, the swirling red cape of a matador taunting them at each corner, ever just ahead despite their furious pace. 

With a roar the bull-men dumped Kyoko on the couch in the President’s office, pawing the ground as they circled each other warily. She eyed them suspiciously, her heart pounding and her mind excessively confused. 

A flourish of red silk; the President bounded over his desk with a shout, darts flying from his fingertips. The bull-men bleated and scrambled away, pawing the ground anxiously by the door in defeat. A silent Ruto appeared, opening the door to allow the stampede exit then following behind them, closing the doors with a stately bow and nary a bolt-click. 

President Takarada pranced over to her side, a rose between his teeth. 

“President, sir, I-- I--” Kyoko didn’t know where to go with her comment, so she just sat up straighter and vouched for loud applause. The President preened, performing a twirling bow and presenting her the rose. He looked up at her from below, his gaze startlingly keen. Kyoko flushed, trying to avoid eye contact. Swishing cape aft, he slid onto the couch across from her. 

“Love,” he said with a flourish of fingertips. “Is a many-splendoured thing, love.” He sighed, leaning back on the couch, his hand waving as if parting the air. “Lifts us up where we belong. All we need is love,” he finished, rolling his head around to catch her gaze once more, his still piercingly bright. 

“Th-that’s a song, right?” 

“Mmmmm,” he hummed, rolling about on the couch. “And so much more, isn’t it? You would know, wouldn’t you?” His eyes twinkled from his now prone position, still watching her carefully. 

Kyoko knew her face must match her outfit. “I…”

President Takarada immediately swung around to rest his chin on his hands, looking every bit the anxious schoolgirl wearing a matador’s hat. 

“I…”

“You…”

“We…” 

“The crucial pronoun change!” 

Kyoko cringed. “We... oh President!” She threw the title at him, cringing. “Surely you know! Must you?”

“Say it!” He bounced. “Saaaaay it!” 

Kyoko moaned, covering her face with her hands. 

“Perhaps you would like a mirror again?” He offered, his head cocked, his eyes lit with amusement. She gasped, shaking her head in refusal. He was inching closer, somehow dragging the entire couch with him as he closed the distance. She shuddered to think the lengths he was about to go to unless she could force the words out and with a deep breath she let it all rush out in one long declaration so embarrassing she wanted to crawl out in the hallway with the bull-men and let him spear her. 

“WeloveeachotherandaredatinganditseverythingIeverwantedthereareyouhappynow!”

Silence. 

She blinked, peeking through her protecting finger-shield covering her face. She had been expecting a thunderous shout, a squeal and dramatic dead faint, a foot-stomping “I Told You So!” Not this strangely quiet room. 

Lory Takarada sat across from her, his head cradled in the palm of his hand, his eyes full of tenderness. Shuffling the red cape off his shoulders, he stood and walked to her side, every movement restrained, graceful, putting her at ease. He sat beside her, eyes widening slightly, a silent beseeching for permission before wrapping her in his arms. She closed her eyes, slowly, piece by piece allowing herself to relax and just be present in the moment of confession. 

“A many-splendored thing, love,” he whispered over her head. She squeezed him tighter in the hug in silent assent. 

Lory sat back and held her at arm’s length, sweeping the hair back from her face to see her eyes clearly. 

“It’s high time you graduated, Miss Mogami.” 

She smiled weakly at him. “I haven’t exactly been trying my best.” 

His laugh was short and regretful. “I would say no such thing. You have not only reached into the darkness shrouding his heart, but have transformed countless others.” She shook her head meekly, an eyebrow from Lory raising in response. 

“Did Kanae and Chiori not tell you?” 

Now it was Kyoko’s turn to arch a brow. “Tell me what?” 

“It’s been six months since Kanae graduated LoveMe, and Chiori was never actually inducted. They both only wear the pink in order to spend more time with you, Miss Mogami.” 

Kyoko gasped, shaking her hand in negation. “They wouldn’t— Kanae hates this uniform, she’d never—“

Lory interrupted her. “Her time with Hiou showed her the true joy in loving a little brother. Did you not notice the difference in her when you went to her house to help when her brother was injured?” He waited as Kyoko mulled over their time together, the pieces falling into place. Kanae’s genuine shock and concern for her elder brother, once only the target of her scorn. Her patience and careful smiles for the frazzled nieces and nephews up way past their bedtime waiting on news; her attention and care to her sister in law without a word of complaint. 

“Oh…” 

“Oh, indeed.” His eyes grew proud as he drew her to her feet beside him. “I believe it is time to disband the LoveMe section. Please turn in your uniform.” 

“No!” Kyoko shouted, then clapped her hands over her mouth. “I mean, sir, may I please keep it?”

Lory’s lip trembled. “You mean you want to stay…?”

“No,” Kyoko quickly cut him off. “Just the coveralls.” She picked at the slightly frayed hem of her right pocket where she kept the heart-shaped notebook. “I’ve learned so much in these coveralls. I’ve met my best friends because of them, and so many other beautiful people like Hizuri-san and Ruriko-chan. I don’t want to leave them behind. And— and I could always still help out around here! You know, whenever you need it.” 

Lory shook his head at her, but his eyes were kind. He held his hand out imperiously. She frowned, unsure, reached her hand out to clasp his then froze when he grunted. He pointed at her right pocket. Kyoko beamed with understanding, pulling out the bedazzled notebook. With a flourish, Lory snatched it from her hand and turned his back to her, dramatically raising his left hand to slam a stamp onto the book. He spun and held it out, the award emblazoned in bright pink ink: 

1,000 POINTS

FREELY GIVEN

JOB WELL DONE

“America does not deserve you, cherie,” he said with a wink. “Though it certainly deserves Kuon.” 


	105. b00ty call

— _b00ty call_

—stfu kijima

— _wut. u kno ur stressed_

—you know no such thing

— _ahole, ur always stressed. it’s wut u get for repressing urself_

…

…

...

— _b00ty call 2.0_

—damnit

…

—where

— _lmao knew you wanted me_

Koga rubbed his hands on his pants nervously; his palms weren’t sweaty, he never showed nerves that way, but if he was going to tonight might be the night and that bothered him.

They’d been friends with benefits for how many years now? It was a casualty of the industry; too much exposure plus ill-defined cultural mores meant open relationships for him fell by the wayside. The media loved ambiguous friendships for feeding the fujioshi masses. Hints were food; a brush of his hand, a too-long stare, slightly flushed cheeks when he changed next to you in the locker room. Anything they could keep in the realm of fiction. Turn it into a clear statement of atypical sexual preference though and the righteous indignation burned because you made their deviance towards taboo luridly clear.

He had goals.

Koga fiddled with the coaster in front of him, pushing it over each water ring in turn. He couldn’t let a fling derail his career. These meetings with Kijima were as good as it got. One ring was still wet, leaving streaks on the countertop. Hoping for more— with a straight man, God! Koga shook his head at himself— was asking for it.

It wasn’t like he’d stood a chance with either of them. Both obsessed with her. What was so magical about her? Like moths to a flame. She was a damn good actress, but he just couldn’t see the sex appeal. And yet that look. Koga scrubbed his hands over his eyes, pressing his palms into the sockets, trying to rub out the image burned into his mind. He hadn’t meant to watch Chocolate so many times. He was just… bored. Lately.

“I wish someone would look at me like that,” he mumbled.

“What? Like a drunk-ass cow?” Kijima’s voice boomed excessively cheerful in Koga’s ear, like a librarian trying to entice kids into storytime when they all just wanted to play video games.

Koga squeezed his eyes shut. This was not the answer. “What am I doing?” He didn’t mean to say it aloud, but there it was, falling off his tongue like overripe apples plop into Kijima’s lap. Embarrassed, Koga shoved back off the bar, turning to leave.

Kijima’s hand caught his wrist, tugging him gently.

“A drink with a friend,” he said, his voice stripped of all its humor sounding alien in Koga’s ear. “Just… a drink.”

Koga jerked his cuff out of Kijima’s hand, the other man spinning on his stool in wild overreaction to the simple tug. Koga grimaced and sat.

“Hah,” Kijima breathed, tapping his fingers on the bar like a pianist. “And now we begin.” His fingers ran wild over the ledge, his hair falling over his eyes as he thrashed the imaginary ivories. He finished with a flourish and snuck a glance at Koga, his smile wide but somehow insecure at the edges.

“Let’s go,” Koga said gruffly. This whole meet-in-public had been Kijima’s idea. He shoved his hand in his pocket, his fingers closing around his phone, already regretting his decision.

— _lmao knew you wanted me_

…

— _it’s been awhile. meet at Omoide?_

—no. yours or mine

— _don’t be shy. why hide that sexy ass_

…

— _there’s a motel next door. one drink and we can leave_

…

—time?

“You said a drink,” Kijima taunted, waving down the bartender.

Koga wanted to leave. Last time that one drink had landed him in the middle of a pack of teen girls with phones, asking for a photo of him and his boyfriend. It was fine— he’d been fine— Sho was straight, and it would all blow over because Sho was straight— but that next week had seen him flying out of control at The Annex and he couldn’t be seen again, not now, not yet.

“Two beers, please.” Kijima almost sang the order. Koga stood again, but Kijima’s arm reached up to encircle his shoulder, pressing him back down into his seat and against the other man’s side. “One for me, one for him.” Koga glared at him but Kijima just winked. He leaned a little too close, his breath warm on Koga’s cheek. “My friend.”

“Damnit, Kijima, we are in public—“

“More fun,” the actor said gayly. He twined his fingers into the fringe of Koga’s hair.

“That’s not what the papers will say when they plaster our photograph on the front page,” he muttered angrily, swatting at the fingers.

“Oooh, should I take my shirt off if we’re going to be the cover story?”

“Don’t you take anything seriously?”

Kijima’s hand paused, his eyes searching Koga’s face.

“This.” He said. One word.

“What?”

“This. I take this seriously.” The bartender sat the beers down with a clunk, pulling Koga’s attention away. He did need to wipe his palms now.

“Go out with me.”

Quietly said, four words sneaking through the noise of the bar, daring other people to listen to their conversation. Four words Koga had never said and here they were, tossed at him like playthings.

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously hot.”

“You mess around with women.”

“A man is allowed to be bi. I don’t like them, I like you.”

“A man is not allowed to be bi, not here, not yet. And if you like me so much, then stop seeing them.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it. Hah, okay,” Koga ran his hands through his hair, his eyes darting around the room, trying to catch anyone listening.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“Okay! Doing it—“ Kijima whipped out his cell phone and started rifling through his contacts, deleting or blocking one number after another.

“You’re doing it,” Koga breathed, flustered. “Why?”

“You asked me to,” Kijima said.

“I wasn’t—“

“I don’t want to be your f* buddy anymore, Kogs,” Kijima said, setting his phone down on the counter. Koga couldn’t stop looking around. Someone had to be eavesdropping. This wasn’t happening. “I want more. I like you. Not just for sex.”

“Oh, God, Kijima, please shut up—“

“No, I’m not afraid. I am who I am.”

Koga wracked his brain. He had to get them out of there. Kijima had lost his mind. If he kept going this way he was going to try and kiss him in the middle of the bar.

“My place, now.”

“Not just f* buddies, Kogs.”

“Yeah, yeah, damnit Kiki, stop talking.”

—-

He’d lost his mind.

A month ago. One month— that harebrained scheme to get Tsuruga’s attention was where it had all started. He should’ve just left it alone. He was doing so well. Now here he was, in the back of a taxi, another man’s hand clenched around his where the right angle in the rear view mirror would so easily show and then it’s all over but the cabbie never looked and they were at his place.

“Koga-san, good evening. And your… friend, good evening, sir.” He hated the way the doorman said friend. It always sounded like an innuendo. He should move. He’d made a fool of himself one too many times in that lobby.

No— he should stop drinking.

“Hey-o,” Kijima waved, oblivious. Koga scowled and pulled him into the elevator. Scratch that. Whisky was waiting in the apartment. Whisky would help.

The doors shut and Kijima spun, wrapping his arms around Koga’s waist and pulling him tight, shifting his hands downwards to slide into Koga’s pockets.

“Back off Kiki,” Koga whispered, looking up at the camera in the corner.

“Just getting the key,” Kijima sang, holding it up with a flourish. He half-strode, half-skipped down the hallway, more confident in his skin than Koga had ever been. Jealousy prickled at him. Maybe being with Kijima wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he could learn something from this ridiculous brash man.

Kijima threw open his door and strode inside, tossing the key on the counter like he’d already been asked to move in.

Manners was not something he would be learning, Koga mused.

Throwing his jacket on the back of the couch, Kijima turned and flung his arms open.

“Come to daddy,” he sang.

Koga choked on his own tongue. “What the—“

Kijima grinned fiendishly before lunging, snagging Koga’s hand and ripping him forward to stumble into his chest.

“Don’t—“

“What, manhandle you? You like it rough.” Kijima’s voice rolled over his senses, suddenly harsh and needy. His lips pressed gently on the spot where Koga’s pulse throbbed, kisses falling on the slippery beats.

“At least ask first,” Koga said softly, letting himself go. One night. Just once. Then he’d figure his shit out.

Kijima hummed under his breath, his face lifting to snare Koga’s mouth in a joyful kiss. God, it felt good to be wanted. He could pretend for a little while he wanted this man back. Kijima’s lips pressed hungrily over his, seeking entrance. His hands were warm, and soft, without any calluses on his fingertips from too much guitar practice. They slid easily under Koga’s shirt, reaching up, gliding over his skin.

Koga was all too aware of every movement. He couldn’t stop analyzing it, shifting his weight, trying to find the right pose to be comfortable and make it work— Kijima’s thumb pressed lightly on his nipple, drawing a gasp from him but something was off and he just didn’t want this. His arms fell from where they’d been trying to find the right spot to lay on Kijima’s shoulders, dropping the other man’s arms out with their descent. Kijima grunted, angling his chin as he tried to reconnect.

Koga pulled back far enough to speak, their lips still close enough the words were felt as much as heard. “Time to leave.”

Kijima studied him without shifting back. He shook his head, dipping to chase Koga’s lips as he stepped away.

“Please, Kijima, not tonight.”

The effervescent smile faded. Lips reddened from kissing pursed in frustration.

“Listen, I know you had the thing for Ren, we all did, but I thought you knew about Kyoko.”

Koga felt the whiplash rock through his mind. “What?”

“They’re dating. It’s love. Your thing for him,” Kijima gestured at the ceiling. “It’s done.”

“Of course I f’n knew about Kyoko. She’s my costar; I’m not brain dead! And my thing—” Words flew out of him, hurtling more at himself than at Kijima, “has nothing to do with this.”

“Then what. Why do I have to leave?” He stepped towards Koga trying to close the distance, his eyes growing molten with desire. “Why can’t we enjoy this thing between us?”

Koga held his hand up, waving Kijima away, his eyes averted.

“Oh shit.” Kijima exhaled, his eyes wide as he watched Koga. “Who. Not what.” He grabbed Koga’s hand. “Who’s the new straight man?”

Koga’s mouth twisted, his head turning away involuntarily.

“Kogs,” Kijima moaned. “Why do you have to do this to yourself? You know it’s never gonna work out. Listen, please. Give me a chance.”

“Not tonight.”

Kijima stepped back, the distance between them suddenly cold. “Ok, fine. I pushed too hard. I’m sorry.” Pause. “Call me…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

“Ok.” Sigh. “Ok.”

And just like that, alone again. Koga slumped on the couch, throwing his phone onto the table. He sat back, then threw himself forward again, snatching his phone off the table and tapping a few swift clicks before tossing it back to slide over the smooth glass.

His chords started. Koga could see the fingers strumming, pressing, shifting, curled into a tight D minor, their arches high and delicate. He closed his eyes as the singing began.

“What the hell am I doing…” he sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Koga has nicknames for everyone. Just not everyone gets to know them.


	106. Like Old Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday morning! Hope you have a wonderful day :-D
> 
> TW: Mental and physical abuse.

Sho ran his fingers down the neck of the guitar, pads pressing one-two-three quick chord changes over and over, drilling in the muscle memory. It was mindless and productive and oh so calming, just him and the music. He could drift with it, letting it carry him, caress him; a weightless reminder of his place. 

His phone buzzed an alert and the smile that had dawned over his features flickered out. He closed his eyes and forced it to reappear, slightly more brittle this time despite his efforts. He lay the guitar tenderly in her case, sliding off the bed to 

shrug a shirt over his shoulders, avoiding looking in the bathroom mirror as he washed his face. The fluorescent light was unkind, making the bruises he had more brown than purple, fading too quickly. 

He had a show to put on tonight, and he refused to be afraid. 

“Afraid…” Sho watched his face in the mirror as he said the word. It didn’t suit him. “I don’t have shit to be afraid of.” He ripped open his shirt, forcing his eyes to study every single fading mark. A long exhale brought one hand up to trace over the darkest, a welt just under his collarbone. Sho licked his lips, forcing a short laugh out. “What’s the beagle going to do, eat me?” 

He ran his hands through his hair, buttoning his shirt back up. It wasn’t the threat of physical harm that rattled him. He could laugh off some bruises. He could make his own bruises. 

But standing there, pinned, someone else rifling through his memories, using him and throwing him aside— that was terrifying. He rubbed his neck, twisting his head against the invasive thoughts creeping into anxiety like vines of poison ivy. He had to find a way to at least protect Kyoko. If he couldn’t be there for her now, he’d never be able to stand before her again. 

Work deadlines forced him out— tonight was a late night talk show with a live show at the end. The host was a rapid-fire comedian; his vibe reminded Sho of Yappa Kimugure Rock and the insane chicken. The memory brought a genuine smile to Sho’s face. He’d really enjoyed thrashing that chicken. 

“So, how’s NYC compared to Tokyo? Worlds apart?” The host gave Sho a beat to nod before continuing. “I see you’ve already met our ladies,” he said, leering cheekily at Sho’s collar line. 

“Ah,” Sho said, forcing himself to nod and smile mischievously. “Yes, very nice ladies. Some, though, are biters.” 

The host gave a guffaw and held up Sho’s previous album. “Maybe they got confused and thought the name of your last album was a self-description.” 

Sho laughed, reaching out to take the album. “ _ Chocolate  _ was a blast to record. A friend helped with the planning, and another with the music video. Truly a group effort.” 

“Oh yes, Miss Kyoko starred in your video. We hadn’t heard you were friends, though!” 

“Well,” Sho paused, an inner debate raging on just how much to reveal. “This was our second collaboration. She’s a very good actress.” 

“I’ll say; even half an ocean and a whole language away we were wooed by the connection between you two. Speaking of language…” The host turned toward the audience, his arms opening wide. “Sho has been working on the English renditions from his latest album,  _ Undead _ , that will have simultaneous releases in Japan and the US. Would you all like to hear him play his favorite song from the album?” 

The crowd roared. Sho hid his face, pretending to cover a blush. It felt damn good. This was where he belonged — this was where he drew power. A few fans in the front row had come prepared with “I LOVE FUWA” signs done in glitter. The host started clapping, gesturing for him to step over to the side stage. Sho stood gracefully, sloughing off his long jacket to screams of the fangirls before striding over to grab the microphone. A glitter sign from backstage caught his eye just before he started— Shoko was grinning and holding a hot pink “FO SHO” sign with Reino standing right beside her. His small lazy wave sent shivers through Sho. The microphone had suddenly become a life preserver, the cold metal reminder of who he was and what he could do. He closed his eyes, willing himself to shut him out. 

Out here, he couldn’t be touched. 

Out here, he was the god. 

The drumbeat began; a chaotic hush fell over the crowd, the front rows still pulsing with excitement. He pressed the mic against his chin, the metal curves biting into his flesh with the only lover’s bite he needed. When he opened his eyes it would be just him and the crowd, making love to one another through music. 

The guitar solo throbbed in the darkened room. A woman screamed; he tilted his face toward her voice and started to sing. 

The production team had loved his “genuine personality” and “rockstar stage presence.” A “unique and heady” combination, according to the E! Online write-up on his performance. Shoko burst into his provided dressing room already reading the excerpts for him. Unfocused, he stared at the hallway behind her, waiting. 

Empty.

He felt a weight lift and turned to listen to Shoko spouting the reporter’s adulation. She’d even included the bit about the kiss mark, throwing out a few rumors on who the lucky lady could be. Shoko sat down her phone after the article, circling around to stand behind Sho and watch him in the mirror, her eyes animated. 

“You’re doing it,” she said. “You’re making this happen.” 

Sho just shrugged. He was still ticked at her about Reino. 

“One step at a time,” she continued, her hand tracing a line out. “And we are going to get that world tour. Next step: music video.” She tapped the back of his chair in excitement. “I have a fantastic twist.” 

Sho arched a brow. This ought to be rich. “Go on, I’m listening.” 

“The song— it’s about struggle, wrong versus right, you versus your own mind. What if we made it more literal and had someone costar with you?” She rubbed his shoulder gently as if trying to ease away the skeptic look on his face. “Someone who used to be your rival but who you defeated so thoroughly they completely left the music scene.” She grinned, excitement pouring off her, lashing against the cold spreading through Sho’s body. “And he’s already said yes!” 

“No,” Sho said. “I refuse.” 

“Don’t be a sissy. You said no more Kyoko, and that’s fine. This though is a fantastic idea! Your fans back home will eat it up, it’ll be another strike to his fan base, pulling them into yours, and even here where they don’t know the backstory— he’s handsome, you’re handsome it’ll sell like takoyaki.” 

Sho spun in his chair, swiping her hand away. “I said no.” 

She crossed her arms, frowning at him. “I am not letting one of your tantrums ruin this P.R. opportunity.” 

“Tantrum? You think this is a tantrum! Shoko, I refuse—“ 

“It’s already been signed off on. The label loves it. You’re doing this.” She picked up her phone, holding it up at him like the appointment inside had some sort of binding power. “Filming is in two days.”

She spun on her heel and left, opening her phone to make seemingly urgent calls and block out his remaining protests. 

A quiet knock on the paneling around his dressing room door stirred him out of his thoughts. He didn’t know how long he’d sat there with his head in his hands, trying to figure out a way around the film. Long enough for him to have two red spots on his temples from the pressure of his palms. A studio employee stood in his doorframe, face clearly displaying a tired desire to go home. 

“Mr. Fuwa, are you perhaps ready to leave? I— we would like to close up soon. If it’s not a problem.” 

Sho glanced at the clock. 2 a.m. 

“Sorry, sorry. Just working on some lyrics. Big filming set tomorrow. Do you think I could…” He put on his best smile, bowing slightly in the way that really threw Westerners for a loop. They never knew quite how to respond when someone bowed. 

“Ah, well, I wouldn’t be able to stay—“

“No, no,” Sho shook his head in what he hoped came across as humble negation. “I can let myself out. There’s a night guard?”

“Mmm,” the employee nodded. “I’ll just… let him know you’re here?” Still hesitant, but giving in. It would do. With a flash of uncertain smile, the stranger left and he was alone again. 

“Hah.” Sho let out a breath half-laugh half-cry. He was hiding from an empty hotel room now. Good times, good times. 

A rap on the doorframe. Sho looked over his shoulder. “Really, I’ll be—“

“Nice little show,” Reino said. He pushed off the frame lazily, a slight slouch in his walk as if he couldn’t care less about where he was or what he was doing. “Thanks for sticking around and saving me a walk.” The words fell out into the space between them, colored dark by the vicious smile on Reino’s face.

Sho was up and moving before he even had time to think. He flung himself across the room, midstride kicking up and out, lashing out at Reino’s chest. Reino twisted; his heel still caught his torso, glancing off as he spun away. A step and his wrist was snared in the strange iron grip of delicate fingers. The edges of his vision flickered; Reino laughed coldly.

“Cute,” he said, edging closer to Sho, his eyes wary. “Like old times.” His hand ran down Sho’s back, the movement making Sho jerk forward, his body involuntarily trying to escape. Cold hands traced a path around his waist, pulling him right against Reino’s chest. He felt nausea rising in him and shook his head wildly, fighting to keep it down. He would not be weak. 

Reino’s eager whisper in his ear brought it all crashing down. “The more you fight this, the more you remind me of her.” 

“Leave her out of this,” Sho gasped. Why were his hands so weak? He clawed at Reino’s grip on his waist but it was like fighting a marble statue. 

“She’s the entire point,” Reino said. “It’s not as if I actually want  _ you _ . Breaking you has been unexpectedly fun, though.” 

Sho’s mind whirled. How was he supposed to fight against this? How could he win against someone that only needed to touch his bare skin to render him useless? 

He grit his teeth. Maybe the key was to not fight. Maybe the way to win was to make him think he had what he wanted, to act broken. Kyoko would never come for him. She was safe in Japan with lover-boy. He could let himself burn. 

He let his head drop forward, lolling to the side, baring himself before Reino. His insides felt like they were curdling, his skin trying to crawl away from the bareness where Reino’s breath fell. 

_ Remember this,  _ he told himself.  _ Feel. Use this. Breathe. This is food for our song. Burn.  _

Reino’s hands gripped him more tightly. He could feel him shift behind him. His body tried to tense, adrenaline threatening, but he forced himself to stay still. 

“Hmmm,” Reino said, his fingers brushing stray hairs from Sho’s neck. “Interesting.” The space behind Sho went chill; Reino had stepped away. 

“See you on set, rock star.” His voice rang out in the empty hallway. 

Sho sagged, falling into the chair. The chair was shaking, rattling his teeth. No, wait— that was just him. 

His hands still trembling, he pulled out his phone. 

New Message

To: Koga

Subject: Hey

— hey. how are you? it’s been… a while. don’t drink too much, you ass 

  
  



	107. Chasing Glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mental and physical abuse and non-explicit allusions to sexual assault. 
> 
> Many thanks to akismusicbox for helping me beta Sho's journey! I am learning so much writing this and having an absolute blast. Sho is having... less of a blast... but... but that's his job? FUWA FUWA FUWA - despite the meaning of the Japanese word, this boy was not made for fluff.
> 
> Thanks for the reads and comments, you beautiful people!

Second late night show in a row -- Sho wasn’t sure what Americans found so captivating about them; the hosts asked similar questions and it was still just him and the one guy playing off each other. Maybe it was the host’s red hair? This one did have a jazz band that played riffs after jokes. He missed the slightly psychotic beat of talk shows back home. 

But damn, his live show at the end had been surreal. His name was being screamed by  _ Americans.  _ He could feel it; that tension between singer and audience where he held their hearts in the palm of his hand and they were begging, craving, demanding that he fill them with his voice. He cracked his neck, waiting for the elevator to finish its long ascent to the penthouse afterparty. 

To think he could step off stage and lose it all so easily.

The elevator doors opened to a scene full of noise and light and life. He shoved any morbid thoughts to the back of his mind. This was where he belonged, in the center of it all. A stranger turned at his entrance and hollered “Eyyyy,” handing him a beer. He slammed it open on a nearby table, earning a chorus of “f yeahs” and “fo sho’s.” He chugged it, tossing it at an already overflowing trash can. He didn’t even know what “fo sho” meant, but it was his tag now, and he loved it. He high fived random people, twisting through the crowd. 

A teen wearing sunglasses despite the dimness inside, his phone screen glowing as he talked animatedly at it grabbed him around the shoulders and pressed his forehead to Sho’s, bouncing and hollering “Fo sho! Fo sho!” Sho went with it, laughing and chanting, making a total ass of himself. The phone screen filled with hearts and blue thumbs, the colorful haze almost completely blocking out their faces. He watched as comments in English poured in, faster than he could read, the sheer volume of influence in the moment coursing through his veins. 

This was the opposite of his chains. This was his on-stage freedom, reaching out and connecting on his own power. He waved at the screen, smiling broadly at the pitter-patter of emojis floating up it.

“How do I set one of these up?” he asked the boy, shouting to be heard over the din. 

“Just click Live, man!” He threw Sho a weird look and pointed at the button near the top of his page. “Click Live and the world can watch!” 

Sho opened his own newsfeed, thumb hovering over the Live button. 

“Hell yeah man, first Live!” The teen angled his phone camera at Sho, fist pumping the air while watching his selfie be smothered in laughing smiley faces. 

Sho clicked. The screen timed up gray, then flashed to his face with Sunglasses Dude streaming by his side. Sho grinned, boyish excitement flooding his features.

“Hey, world,” he said. “It’s Sho!” 

\--

Sho sat on his bed cross legged the next morning in his favorite white tee and a pair of gray sweats. His hair was growing out annoyingly; he felt like he had a nervous tic, sweeping his bangs to the side every thirty seconds as he tried to write. His phone lay on the bed next to him. 

New Message

To: Koga

Subject: yawn

—so tired. are you sleeping? went to a party last night. they didn’t even have strawberry flavored drinks. Waste Of Time

He tapped out a rhythm with his pencil, humming the syncopated beats for a bridge lyric set. His phone screen went dark against the white sheets, snagging his peripheral view. An idea swept across his features. He scooped up his phone and opened social media. 

Sho buried his head in his pillow before the Live started, poking out playfully when he started to feel the vibrations of incoming comments. Hearts and laughing faces flooded his screen. He looked ridiculous with his bed head and almost reached up to try and pat it down. But this was his window out— the reminder of who he was, who he wanted to be-- and he needed it to be real. Or at least as real as he could make it for them. He left the hair, smiling sheepishly at the front camera.

“Good morning… hope you are well.” 

Today was the music video shoot. He was desperate to tell them, to put his voice into the mad story and take control of his version. He propped his chin up with the pillow, making a yawning face before starting. 

“Today is the first day of our shoot for a new video,” he paused, reading comments. “Thanks everyone, yes I am looking forward to you seeing it. I have a special guest too; I think you will remember him. We are working together on the video, so I definitely want you to be watching for it!” He waved, thanking everyone again, finally taking a moment to run his hand through his hair with a side comment on waking up already looking ready for a punk rock show. One last smile and he signed off, falling back on the bed with a whumph. He sounded like a K-Pop wuss. He cocked his head and made bunny ears with his fingers, grimacing sarcastically at his ceiling. “Hey, it’s Sho, O.M.G. so kawaii!” How was he supposed to talk normally on these videos without being half-drunk? He rolled over, burying his face in his pillow and blindly patting the covers for where he’d flung his phone. 

New Message

To: Koga

Subject: Work blah

—on the way to work. you better not slack

Shoko came into his dressing room, armed with her schedule book and phone as usual. She found him mid-costuming, his hairstylist busy back-combing to make the spiked style over his shoulders more intense. He glared at her from under the low fringe, leather gloves creaking as he clenched his hands tight. 

Shoko blew up at her own bangs, one of her classic gestures of frustration. “Why are you being so difficult, Sho?” 

“Method acting,” he said. 

She huffed at him, coming to sit in the chair next to him. “You really don’t want to do this, do you?”

Sho shrugged, his face blank. He wanted to vomit it all out into her lap right there, but the consequences to his reputation of ever admitting that he had been forced by  _ Reino _ of all people gnawed at him. 

“He’s been so thoughtful about the offer; I couldn’t refuse him,” she spun her chair to face Sho, forcing him to school his features. “He said he wants to do whatever he can to help your career as an apology for the way he acted.” The hairdresser’s comb made soft scritching sounds as she brushed, his dark eyeliner stark beneath the bulb lights. He raised his hand to touch the lines; the hairdresser gently pushed it down and away. Shoko was still talking. 

“He’s a model now, too— we might be able to grab some photos while he’s on set and use them for extra publicity.” Model. Stand there and stare ominously while everyone else works. Suits him perfectly. “Oh come on, please,” she finished, patting his leg. “Would texting Koga help this awful funk you’re in?” 

Sho jerked back like he’d been shot. The hairdresser squeaked in confusion, her comb tangled in his hair. 

“No--” He paused, searching for words. “I already-- It’s fine, I shared on Live today that we had a guest for the video. It’s fine.” His words felt like defeat, but maybe that was just the syrupy-sweet tone he’d had in the Live wearing on him still. He rubbed his fingers together, watching the movement closely. If he could pull this off-- if he could rip the control of this video back from Reino and stamp it with his own brand of magic--

His eyes lit with determination, watching himself closely in the mirror. 

No  _ ifs _ . 

This was already his. 

\--

_ I’ll see you for the afterparty _

Sho slammed the door of the taxi. Riding home with Shoko was not an option. He should find a different manager. Or no manager. How hard could it be, keeping his schedule? 

Never mind. He didn’t want more work. 

It had gone exactly as he wanted. A lapse when Reino slid the chains around him, his thumb pressing in on one of the bruises hidden beneath layers of costume, not to cause pain -- just to make sure he remembered. He’d felt his heart rate rocket and had earned an NG when he closed his eyes to hide the panic. 

There was a reason he had requested leather gloves be added to the costume for both of them. Going in he knew he had a shield, that his skin couldn’t be touched. It ate at him that even so he’d been weak enough to flinch beneath the mindgames. 

_ I’ll see you for the afterparty _

Sno sneered. He’d go to the hotel tonight-- no more running and hiding in cold dressing rooms, he would not be chased out of his own home. But he’d be damned if he showed up in any state resembling sobriety. The taxi pulled up outside the closest bar. He didn’t even care what the name was; it was loud, bright, and seething with life. He tossed a twenty at the driver and stepped out, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black skull-printed jacket. 

Five shots later and Sho found himself standing on a chair in the corner, a makeshift stage with his new friends surrounding him, egging him on to perform. A hand held a bright yellow shot up to him; he tossed it back with a shout, thrusting the empty glass up to the ceiling. He felt wild and reckless -- anything could happen and it would go exactly like he wanted. He started to sing, stepping from one chair to another, grabbing a beer from a waitress’s tray and holding it high as he swayed to his own sound. The bar crowd throbbed around him, clapping and dancing. A man leaped up onto the chair behind him, busting out a beatbox layer for his vocals. Somehow they were hugging, holding on to each other high above the crowd, his rhythm piercingly loud in Sho’s ear as he sang  _ Chocolate _ for the people. 

He could make anywhere a stage. He could make anyone his fans. He was fire and sound and song, and this city was going to burn with it. 

New Message

To: Koga

Subject: askghajsjd

\--i can’t evern tell u y aren’t u hereeeeeeeeeeeeee lmao ur missin it ass i’m going to make everyone want me and someday maybe u will too

Sho fumbled with the lock on his door, exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. He couldn’t make his fingers work; he kept missing the key card slot. He leaned against the door to steady himself and try again, but the door swung open easily. 

“That… was definitely locked,” he said to himself, shrugging as he stepped inside. He bowed a thank you to the door before closing it. The soft sound of cloth rustling against leather met his ear. He froze, turning slowly. 

There, on the bed.

Sho sagged against the wall, weariness overcoming him. He’d been to another world and back tonight, and the shock of it all crashing around him again made his head spin. He forced himself to remember the fire and glory, to hold tight to who he could be outside this room. 

“I just… want to be alone.”

“You are.” Reino’s voice was dark with threat. “Never forget it.” 

His purple eyes gleamed in the lamplight as he crooked his fingers. Sho stumbled forward, pulling his shirt off over his head. The curtains were drawn tight, as if this room had been sealed off from the rest of existence.  _ Remember who you can be _ . 

“Good boy,” Reino said as Sho sank onto the bed next to him. He gripped the sheets tightly, bracing himself for the sickening dimness that would take him when Reino’s hand brushed his skin. 

New Message

To: Koga

Subject: 

\--i miss you


	108. The Beast's Den

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hit 200,000 words with this chapter! WHAT IS GOING ON?! Thanks to all of you for hanging in on this crazy ride; I hope you enjoy it even a fragment as much as I enjoy writing it. I can't wait to show you some Shoga watercolor art that sunberries (tumblr: freshsunberries) is working on for me in celebration!

“Are you sure this is where you want to go for our trip?” Kuon asked her for the thousandth time, his voice still just as laced with concern as the first. She nodded brightly, her eyes watching the scenery flash by outside their train compartment. “We can always stay at Kurama Ryokan instead -- their onsen has the best marks online.” 

She turned and clasped his hand in hers. “I want to go back,” she said softly. “And I want to do it with you.” 

Kuon’s head fell forward, his hair shading his eyes in a way she found almost irresistible. Every time he did it her hand physically ached to reach up and brush it tenderly off his face. Linger for a few heartbeats longer than necessary, long enough for his eyes to rise, to meet hers, for an electric shock of mutual need to pass between them, for him to lean forward, his mouth parting as he tenderly--

“Alright,” he said, interrupting her train of thought. “I promise to stop asking.” 

She turned her face away quickly to hide her blush. This was their first trip together to an onsen, and she was extremely nervous. It didn’t seem to help that they’d already been intimate; something about purposefully choosing to go out of town to a place where the entire plan was to remove their clothing made her heart race. Planning to go to the Fuwa ryokan had seeded in her mind as a necessity for closure before she left for the audition, but it quickly merged with a desperate bid to remove some of the lasciviousness from the outing. It had definitely toned down Chiori’s lustful vocal composition of her latest fanfic when she informed her best friends of her plan. 

“FUWA’S?” Kanae had shouted. She rarely raised her voice anymore, but Kyoko’s announcement had shocked it out of her. 

“Well, Shotaro isn’t home-- he’s been going Live quite often and is clearly in America somewhere. I haven’t watched any of them long enough to tell where; his voice grates on my eardrums.” Kyoko stuck out her tongue.

“Kyoko, if his voice alone is enough to torment you still, why are you planning your romantic getaway before being separated from your True Love for several weeks for the terd’s family home of all places?” Chiori sounded almost desperate. Her fic outline sheet had been full of what she called “exciting plans” for the two of them, but now it was being slowly crumpled in her fist. 

“It’s not like being physically intimate is the only thing that can make time apart successful!” Kyoko admonished them with a blush. “This trip is about closure-- for both of us. If we are going to be apart, we have to have absolute trust. And for Ren, the biggest obstacle to that is still, however insane it sounds, Fuwa. I can’t take him to Fuwa himself, but I can take him to his home!” 

“I get it,” Chiori said slowly. “Exorcise the beast by making love in his den. I can work with this,” she said, meandering away as she scribbled in her notebook. 

“Well I for one don’t,” Kanae said. “Why do you even have to be long-distance? Isn’t he auditioning for the same movie? Wouldn’t it make sense for him to go with you?”

Chiori called from across the room where she’d established herself at her laptop, already typing away. “And perhaps bring that smokin’ hot manager so Kanae doesn’t have to go hungry either!” 

Kanae swatted at her, but kept her eyes fixed on Kyoko. 

“He’s got commitments here still. Important ones, involving other people’s schedules.” She hated being so vague with her friends, but the plans Kuon had were extremely sensitive and even mentioning the parties involved could blow it all. “He’s doing a video audition; Seiji-san was able to orchestrate it for him. He does have the filmography behind him to serve as an adequate reference, you know.” 

“Of course,” Kanae nodded. “But still-- Fuwa?” 

She heard the same argument echoed in Kuon’s voice now. She hadn’t fully convinced Kanae, but her heart still sang out that this was a good plan. “Kuon,” she said, squeezing his hand to draw his eyes to hers. “I’m sorry I’m missing the funeral.” 

His answering laugh was short and bittersweet. “Promise me you’ll watch with Kanae,” he said. She nodded emphatically. She wouldn’t miss it for the world, even though the timing meant getting up at 3 a.m. in the morning. “That’s all I need,” he said, pressing her hand to his lips. He looked out the window at the thinning city, Tokyo rushing its last farewells. “It’s been years since I’ve been back to Kyoto,” he said. 

She bit her lip. Asking for this trip was also asking him to dive back into his own past. But they were on the brink of throwing the door wide open and lancing through his buried scars with the trip back to Los Angeles. Surely this was a gentler beginning. “Kuon,” she said, “let’s go to our spot.” 

He eyes flashed deep green in the sunlight, his stare out the window unfocused, lost in memories. Slowly, he turned toward her, a smile breaking over his features like the sun on a winter morning. 

“Sometimes I can’t wrap my mind around this path that’s led me to you,” he said.

She didn’t answer, choosing instead to wrap her pinky finger around his, her smile an echo of the little girl beaming above hamburger-shaped rocks. 

The taxi ride from the station was short; Fuwa-san would have sent a driver but Kyoko preferred to not inconvenience them on a business day. Ren pulled their luggage out, thumping it on the ground beside them. He’d almost poked himself in the eye four times trying to put his contacts in on the bumpy country roads, and still blinked a little too long as he stood next to her. She was blinking oddly as well, but it was from the force of memories overwhelming her and not from forcibly applied eyewear.

The ryokan’s graceful whitewash and wood beam walls arched up in imitation of the trees surrounding its garden, anemone flowers sprouting gracefully along the path, their tiny petals decorating the walkway worn smooth by generations of transient feet. Sun-warm flat stones drew racing feet out and away from the patio into the shaded, whispering woods. The smells of delicate white fish, steamed rice and jasmine floated out of the kitchen window where Fuwa-san’s knife tapped out a rhythmic beat, singing alongside the okami-san’s wooden chimes hanging by the door. Her heart ached to call this beautiful place home, but an emptiness inside her remained, keeping it resigned to the label “where I was raised.” 

She felt a sudden urge to tie her hair back, her gaze flickering over to meek staff entrance by the kitchen window. Ren’s hand gripped hers, a gentle squeeze refocusing her. 

‘You’re here to rest,” he said. “Or we go somewhere else.” 

She looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat from the force of memories merging. She was back, but life had flipped upside down since she left. Or was it right-side up? Kyoko smiled in wonder. More than a year ago her footsteps had raced out that staff entrance at night, chasing after a boy and his dreams. Now she would return, through the front door, with another boy from her past-- a boy who wanted to chase after their dreams side by side. 

The door slid open. A woman in a silk kimono, made even more graceful by the streaks of gray in her charcoal hair, stood serenely in the frame, her polite smile beckoning them forward. Kyoko took a deep breath and walked forward hand-in-hand with Ren, stopping before the wooden steps to bow deeply. 

“Okami-san,” Kyoko said, raising from her bow. “Do you have a spare room for us?” 

The woman’s sharp intake of breath was audible. She gathered her kimono in one hand and rushed down the stairs, enveloping Kyoko in her arms. 

“Kyoko-chan, you’ve come home! We weren’t expecting you to come see us so soon after we visited Tokyo-- Fuwa, Fuwa! Kyoko-chan is home!” She held Kyoko at arm’s length, her hand patting Kyoko’s hair tenderly. “Come, come inside, of course we have a room. Or two?” She glanced from Kyoko to Ren meaningfully, drawing a blush from both of their faces. 

“Two--” Ren said.

“One--” Kyoko said. 

The pair looked at one another, flustered. 

“One--” Ren corrected himself.

“Two, two--” Kyoko stammered. 

The Okami tittered, covering her mouth with her hand. “One it is,” she said. A soft sigh raised her shoulders, her eyes distant for a moment. “Kyoko-chan,” she said as she pulled out the register book, turning the thick white pages slowly, drawing out a long pause before continuing. “No, nevermind.” Her smile was brief and tinged with sadness. She turned the book to them, gesturing for them to fill in their personal information. 

Kyoko ‘s mouth twisted in silent thanks for her reserve. She knew the Okami had long wished for her to marry her son; their conversation during the Fuwas’ trip to Tokyo had centered around Shotaro’s indecent behavior and a seemingly unending chorus of interchanged apologies between the three. Kyoko for fleeing without word; Fuwa-san for raising such a son; Okami-san for pressuring Kyoko too much and leaving her without a “mother” to turn to. Kyoko still flushed at the thought of Okami-san wanting to fill such a role for her. She had done enough, being willing to take in the burden of an unwanted child. It was Kyoko who would be unable to repay their kindness. 

Her hands suddenly itched to help around the ryokan. She could see a single setting of dishes in the dining room waiting to be cleared and taken to the kitchen. She would just-- 

The Okami-san’s hand chopped the air between her and the dining room. “You will not.” Her tone was disapproving, her face stern. “I have a good-for-nothing paid employee who will. You-- Kyoko-chan, you will enjoy this ryokan for the place of rest it is meant to be.”

A male voice from behind the pair completed her thought. “And as it should have been, long ago for you.” Kyoko whirled to see Fuwa-san emerging from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his pristine chef’s apron, a genuine smile emblazoned on his stern face. 

“Fuwa-san,” she said, bowing. 

“Please, no need for formalities. We are family,” he said, his hand pressing on Kyoko’s shoulder to raise her. “And this is…?” 

“Fuwa-san, Okami-san, this is Tsuruga Ren,” she stopped, waiting for the intense reaction typical when people heard his stage name. None came. She continued, somewhat confused. “My boyfriend.” The pair reacted then, their eyes widening and faces splitting in two with excited smiles. 

“Boyfriend--” Fuwa-san began.

“One room!” Okami-san shouted. She covered her mouth with her hands after the uncharacteristic outburst. 

“One room?” Fuwa-san echoed, his eyebrow arching. 

Ren had the grace to look abashed. “Two rooms is acceptable,” he said in his perfect gentleman’s voice.

“Nonsense,” Okami-san said, giving her husband a meaningful look. She turned, her chin set firmly, and led the pair up the stairs. Kyoko bit her lip to keep from smiling at the heartwarming interplay between the Fuwas. Their concern for her made her feel more truly at home than any words of welcome. 

The stairs creaked underfoot in the exact same places; third step, right side, seventh step, middle front, last til the top, right side again. She could avoid each and ascend noiselessly, but chose instead to step firmly on each spot. She wanted the old inn to know in its bones she had returned. Ren followed behind her on the narrow steps, his weight making louder creaks that tickled her ears pleasantly.

The Okami-san gently pulled back the sliding door to their room, bending in a short bow as they stepped inside. 

“I hope you’ll truly relax, Kyoko-chan. If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs helping Fuwa-san. The pantry is open for you— and I believe the onsen is completely empty if you would like to soak after your journey.” She caught Kyoko’s blushing glance at Ren and smiled, sighing again. Kyoko couldn’t quite catch the words she mumbled as she slid their door shut, but she could have sworn it was along the lines of, “How did I raise an idiot?” 

Ren’s brilliant smile proved he’d heard her too, and the pair burst into laughter. 


	109. Fairy Tales

Their room invited them to rest in the simple beauty of a traditional ryokan. Sunlight filtering through round windows lit the room in warm honey tones, highlighting the tea ceremony set centered on the low table. Kyoko’s socked feet padded noiselessly over the tatami mats to the tea set. She picked up the tea pot reverently, the glazed clay smooth beneath her hands. A humble laugh— she turned to face Ren, holding out the pot. “Do you remember?”

He wrapped his hand around hers, cradling the pot together. He bent, nuzzling his forehead to hers, his nod more of a caress than an answer. She exhaled slowly, letting the story come full circle. 

“Hoo,” she said, the nonsense syllable feeling necessary as she tried to wade out of the moment. Silken robes hung in the wardrobe enticingly. “Kuon,” she said, whispering his name like the beautiful secret it was. “Should we?” The black fabric felt glorious on her fingertips; she longed to wrap it around her. 

Ren reached over her to slide the robe off its hanger and hold it in front of her. “I would love to,” he said. His voice was as warm and restful as the onsen awaiting them, but where the spring brought peace this filled her with the reckless heat of desire. He kissed the tip of her ear, sliding the robe around her shoulders. “Meet you downstairs?” 

She managed to grab his hand before he slipped away, too polite for what was rising inside her. “You…” she paused, fidgeting slightly. “You don’t have to leave.” She watched his eyes darken and his lips part as he paused, her pulse skyrocketing watching him drink in her words like wine. 

His hands moved excruciatingly slowly, his eyes never wavering from hers as he unbuttoned his shirt, letting the fabric drift open. It was getting hard to breathe; she wanted to close the teasingly short distance between them and run her hands across his chest, pushing the offensive shirt off. She gripped the silk robe like a life preserver, thankful for the fabric barrier between him and her need. Her breath hitched as his shirt slid off his shoulders to the floor, his hands running down his own skin to tug sharply at the sole button securing his dark jeans. 

She rubbed the soft fabric of her robe over her lips, fixated on his fingers as they slid down the zipper with a whisper of metal. He was breathing quickly too, now, his chest muscles tense with each increasing inhale. 

He was beautiful, and powerful, and dangerous. He stood there before her, vulnerable in his nakedness yet so piercingly alive she couldn’t stand it. Her robe dropped in a hushed pile; he closed the distance between them and swept her into a heated, desperate kiss that set her entire body on fire. His hands fumbled as he jerked off her shirt, catching on her shoulders, then her ears, his cheeks tinted with faint embarrassment at the clumsiness their need induced. Then she was bare before him too, and they were free, everything else forgotten as they clung to one another. 

“Ooooh…” How she blushed as she floated in the onsen, her body still tingling with memories of him. The shower had done little to rinse away his scent; it was as if he had claimed her body and soul and now she would never be able to run from the deliciously wonderful fact that Kuon didn’t just need her. 

He wanted her. 

She twisted giddily in the water, tiny splashes lapping at the sides of the stone pool. Steam rose in pillow wafts around her, making the onsen her secret glade in the sunshine. She bit her lip, pressing the small white towel to her face to hide her girlish squeals as the reality of  _ them _ washed over her. Somehow it was even more vibrantly real here, in the warmth of the onsen, his warmth still lingering inside her. 

His voice echoed over the bamboo barrier between the gender baths. “I can see why you believed in fairies, growing up here.” He spoke lazily, the consonants soft, and she could almost imagine him leaning back against the smooth stone walls, his arms stretched out in support, his lean torso barely submerged as he let his feet drift in the shallow water. 

“Mmmm,” she said, not sure herself if it was an answer to his question or a reaction to her imagination running wild. 

“Kyoko,” he said. His voice had grown clearer, like he had twisted around and was facing the wall now, his head resting on his forearms, bangs damp from the steam. “Could we visit our spot?” 

She nodded, imagining what would happen if the bamboo were to spontaneously combust and leave nothing but a trail of ashes between them. Her sight and his linked in an instant, his pose no longer a mystery, and his arms wrapping around her, holding her tight to him as they floated together, his hungry lips hers once more. 

“Kyoko? We don’t have to,” he said, his voice concerned. 

She sat up straight, water sloshing with her movement. “Oh! Oh, no sorry, I nodded-- I forgot-- yes, Ren, I would love to.” She sank down low in the water, her mouth just above the warmth, trying to blame the heat of the steam for her reddened cheeks. “Let’s go today.” 

Fuwa-san made them a picnic basket full of fresh fruit, onigiri, and egg sandwiches. Ren grimaced involuntarily at the weight, hiding his dismay at the mass quantity of food he was apparently expected to eat with effusive thanks to their hosts. They waved off all his protests and attempts at payments, shushing them out the door. 

Ren’s phone rang as they stepped off the porch; a quick glance and a nod asking her permission before he stepped aside to answer it, his hand hefting the picnic basket. Something about his bicep presses with the basket exuded nervous energy and Kyoko crept closer, curious as to the caller. 

“No, two weeks is fine; as long as it’s finished before I leave. Mmm, yes. No, I’m not sure what it is, but I’ll find out her-- Kyoko-chan!” He jumped, seeing her standing close, and shuffled farther away, his gentlemanly smile plastered on his face. He whispered requests for  _ one moment, be right there  _ at her before turning back to the conversation, his eyes watching her more closely. She only caught bits and pieces now, her curiosity at a devil’s peak. “Size… okay, yes… like what we…” 

She wanted to pout at being left out, but clearly this was something he preferred to keep private. So she settled for scuffing at the moss beside the stone pathway, then being overwhelmed with remorse at disturbing the aged peace of it’s growth. She knelt, whispering apologies to the moss fairies, patting it back down perfectly in place. Suede shoes peeked in the corner of her vision; he was done. She waited a beat longer, finishing her job a tad more perfectly than necessary, then stood, still slightly piqued for no good reason. 

“Important call?” she asked. She couldn’t help herself. 

“Nope,” he said, twirling the picnic basket and offering her his arm. She huffed, but the warmth of his presence as she was tucked in beside him, their mismatched gaits making her sway against him deeply with each step soon overwhelmed any silly competition with a mystery caller. 

She did still make a mental note to check and see what was two weeks away when she got back to her calendar book.

The hike to the glade was significantly shorter than she’d remembered. As a little girl it had seemed a whole kingdom away, her breath coming in short gasps by the time she ran far enough to collapse at the safety of her stream’s banks. Even before Corn appeared, this was her refuge. The trees parted before them and a watershed of memories poured over her, joy and sorrow and her first ever taste of hope rushing to fill her mind as the scents and sounds of their spot filled her senses. Rich, earthy moss, wet with dew; blindingly bright sun shimmers on the surface; water so clear it almost disappeared beneath the sun’s rays, betraying its presence in the bubbling brook only by the way the streambed seemed to quaver and throb beneath its ripples. There was music in the water, and life, and suddenly, bright and glorious laughter as Corn stood beside her again, his arms stretched over for balance high atop the rock. 

She shaded her face, the sun’s brightness a scorching halo around him. Her eyes teared with wonder as he spun, his head thrown back, his feet slipping and sliding on the mossy stone but every movement suffused with grace and joy. 

This was their kingdom, and the prince was finally home. 


	110. Sunset

It could have been minutes or days that they spent there, her head on his shoulder, his feet stretched out in the water, slacks rolled up and shirt untucked, looking more gloriously real than he'd ever looked on set. They spoke of memories like people, old friends coming back to visit, pointing out signposts and souvenirs from their trip home, rejoicing in every act and word that they savored for the span of a life. She nestled into his side, her arms wrapping around him as the sun started to set and their words finally fell quiet.

The water was painted vibrant reds and oranges by the sun's lengthening rays. Kyoko whispered of the art she saw, a mosaic of autumn breaking and reforming in the rippling waves. Ren was still, suddenly too quiet. His face had lost the light and peace of their kingdom; a darkness stealing across his memories too quickly for her to mistake. This was the same demon of fear that had possessed him after Katsuki's near-miss in street racing.

"Kuon?" she called, her hand reaching up to touch his face. He flinched, his eyes tearing away from the red spreading over their stream. His skin was clammy with sweat.

"I-" he paused, his eyes searching desperately for a place to land. He stood, sliding out from under her, turning his back to the water as if he needed a physical barrier to protect himself. "It's late; I think it's time we go home."

Kyoko shook her head, standing and moving quickly to his side, clasping his hand in hers again. He looked down at her small hands trying to cover his and a smile flickered briefly across his features before dying again. "No," he said softly. "I mean… _home_." She frowned, then understanding burst across her features.

"America," she said softly.

He nodded. His hand waved behind him, gesturing at the red-tinted water. "This place is so beautiful," he said, his voice sorrowful. "And yet at the slightest touch of red, my mind loses it way straight back…"

"To Rick," she finished for him. She knew how important Rick was to her, and though a part of her raged against him feeling such cruel emotions in their glade, the other side cried out for his rescue. This was a place of rebirth and hope, of losing pain and finding joy. She wrapped herself around him, praying with all of her strength for his freedom.

Softly, carefully, she formed words, each one a plea for his release. "Rick loved you, Kuon. Every word that you've said about him is a testament of your love for him and his for you. You were brothers." She raised his hand, still clasped in hers, to her mouth, kissing his skin gently. A tug, asking him silently to turn. He hesitated, then shifted to face her, her features silhouetted against the blood-red stream. His face crumpled, a small whimper escaping him as he reached for her. She held back just long enough to meet his gaze and show him she was real before allowing him to collapse around her.

"Dream your dreams of him here, Kuon," she said, the words falling like an incantation. "He gave his life for you to live; let him live on in joy and hope, not in fear and mourning."

Kuon stiffened beneath her touch. She waited, ready for him to break and turn, running from it all; hoping he would stay. The silence grew torturous, but she waited, and he breathed. A deep, shuddering breath. He stepped out onto his rock, the one from which he'd leapt high into the air, and stood looking over the water. She moved to stand on the shore beside him, her hand resting on his leg. He spoke then, words starting in a disconnected jumble but swiftly forming and merging to roll out of him like their stream, pouring out the stories of concerts, of late nights, of shared fast food bargain meals and thrift stores and boxing lessons. Of street cars and homework on the floor of his bar, of his bandmates and Tina and the smell of leather. Rick's life was full of noise and kindness, merging into a cacophony as healing as their bubbling brook.

The sun dipped below the horizon as he spoke and she listened, and the water slowly relinquished its vibrant red, shimmering dusky pink, then deep purple, then glistening black speckled with hundreds of diamond stars. Just as slowly and inevitably, his voice started to lull, the stories becoming gentler, merging with a smile, a faint sigh that could have been a laugh, a pause pregnant with hope. When he finally ran out of them, he stood, his back arched gracefully as he stared up at the night sky. He traced a single constellation, then looked down at her, his face aglow with starlight.

A leap and he was flying again, soaring through the air impossibly high, the night sky playing tricks on her until he landed whoosh by her side, rising from the impact with the same unearthly grace she remembered as a child.

His hand was warm and solid on her cheek, a visceral reminder that this was no fairy prince; he was hers, a man, every bit as broken and beaten and triumphantly persevering as she. He brushed her hair out of her face, the mundane move somehow made achingly tender by this moment. The air around them was chill and full of the chatter of a nighttime forest, the sky dark and speckled with the bright stars of a new moon. She could barely see him, but with every nerve alive to his presence, his skin warm on hers, she didn't need to. She knew him, knew his soft cedar and linen smell, knew his graceful fingers and steady hands, his kind eyes with limitless depths, his sweet kisses and soul-healing embraces.

His voice broke the spell he'd cast, only to weave a stronger one.

"Marry me, Kyoko," he said. "Stay with me forever."

She could have sworn the entire brook leapt with her heart as her mind reeled beneath the weight of his words, taking in only the fantastical myths of a forest at night. Was that a fairy beneath the tree, peeking at her, beaming with magical wonder at the words hanging in the air between them? Did the trees themselves suddenly spring to life, their leaves twirling in dance at their joy in who was before her? Surely the stars themselves were winking at her, beckoning her to speak.

He touched her lips, his thumb pressing lightly at the corner of her mouth, reminding her she needed to speak; that the forest and fairies would not do it for her.

"Oh Kuon," she whispered, words failing her. "Yes." His arms swooped around her, crushing her to him, lifting her off the ground to meet him face to face.

'Again," he urged.

"Yes!" She said, laughing as he spun with her, his feet slipping slightly on the stony bank. They laughed, and danced, both of them absolutely certain the forest itself was dancing with them.

"A thousand times yes," she whispered, mostly to herself. "Forever a yes."


	111. Big Apple Layover

Fuwa-san stood framed in the light of the doorway, his face grim as the pair stumbled ecstatically out of the woods, their hair thick with leaves from brushing into one two many low-hanging branches in the moonlight. He started to scold them, chiding her over being out for so long without word or warning, making Okami and he believe something untoward had happened, but something about the looks on their faces stopped him and he just sighed, uncrossing his arms before welcoming them home. 

Kyoko grinned madly, her heart still full to bursting at Ren’s arms tight around her, hugging her to him like he was never going to let go, their vows secreted away in her heart like Christmas morning. They stumbled up the stairs, him refusing to hold her any less tightly to make the passage more easy despite looking like he was nearly folded in half. She was ready to overflow and looked around in wonder at the other guests going about the quiet peace of their evening. How could they not tell? Surely there was a shift in the air, a vibrancy to the entirety of life when he entered. She bounced, pecking him on the cheek, making him chuckle in surprise and squeeze her tighter. 

Okami-san glided out from the dining room, her pace serene but her eyes stormy. She saw Kyoko and furrowed her brows, clearly debating something. 

“Okami?” Kyoko questioned, still wrapped in Ren’s arms. Sho’s mother stood still, watching the two of them as if weighing her words, then shook her head tightly and forced a grin over her features. Her demeanor stilled the magic for a moment, drawing them out of the fairy tale. 

“Okami-san,” Ren began, standing straight for the first time since entering the ryokan. “Is there something we can help with?” 

She seemed to sag at that, her shoulders showing their burden. Ren squeezed Kyoko’s shoulder and stepped forward to stand just in front of her, his fingers drifting down to lace with hers as he waited, giving the landlady time to compose herself and speak. 

“It’s… oh, Kyoko-chan, it’s that stupid son of mine!” She suddenly burst, her words flowing out of her like a river flooding its dam. “He’s flown away, and he’s in such a big city, and I know he’s not happy, I can tell something is very wrong, but I cannot go to him because of this ryokan, the same ryokan that he so desperately doesn’t want and--” She cut herself off, bitterness over the past rising to war with her concern for her son. “And,” she began again, more calmly. She looked at Kyoko with pleading in her eyes. “I need a favor from you.” 

\-------------------------------

The night and day passed too quickly after that and suddenly it was time for her to leave. They’d stolen as many moments together as possible, filling their nights with time far more enjoyable than sleep and their days with hushed conversation, the feeling of his hand tucked in hers, her small body wrapped completely in his arms as they stood looking over the mountains. They crafted their own world together, creating memories of love that would carry them through the long days before he could join her in Los Angeles. Every day he made her a ring from a different type of flower, sliding the fragile promise over her finger. 

Wild honeysuckle.  _ Thinking only of you.  _

A string of forget-me-nots.  _ Always remembering you.  _

Yellow marguerites.  _ I will come for you soon.  _

And on their last day, safe in his lap, their feet splashing gently in the stream as they stretched out the time before she left into as many memories as possible, a cluster of daisies, their petals bright and fresh. 

“I love you truly,” he whispered in her ear. She burrowed deeper into his lap, pulling his arm across her. 

“Despicable man,” she said, her voice lilting playfully, the memory freed of pain. She played with the ring on her finger, craning her neck up to look in his eyes. “How far we’ve come.” 

He kissed her lightly on the forehead, his fingers tracing over the delicate ring. “I’ve been saying I love you since the day we met, you know,” he said. 

“Mmmm,” she agreed, nuzzling back into his embrace. “But you’ve gotten a lot better at it with the practice.” Kuon laughed, a sound full of freedom and joy. 

“I won’t stop until I’ve mastered it,” he said. 

“I’m turning out to be a terribly demanding customer,” she replied, burying her face in his shirt to hide her giggles. 

Before she was ready, she was in the line for security, then through the other side, his figure standing above the crowd, searching for her. His eyes lit with joy when he saw her, making her heart soar that she could have such an impact on such a man. She walked down the hallway to the gate backwards as far as she could, unwilling to lose a single moment of connection with him, but too soon the attendants were calling her flight and even his tall form was disappearing to the distance. It was too much, too soon, and she had to fight back the tears that threatened. A deep breath, her finger twining around Princess Rosa to summon her courage. 

This trip was for her. 

She was in love with him and would spend the rest of her life loving him. But she would not spend a moment of her life being subsumed by him. He was her solace and her home, but acting… she smiled, holding her hands to her chest as she stepped onto the ramp that would lead her to a whole new stage. If Kuon was her breath, acting was her blood. 

A deep breath. The plane started to taxi, pressing her back into her seat with inescapable momentum. Her pulse was racing. 

It was time to find her wings and soar. 

___________________________________________

She had a six-hour layover in New York City before continuing across the country to Los Angeles. It was her third layover -- a stop in Moscow, a stop in London, and now a stop in New York City. Cheap flights were exhausting, like being run through an industrial sized washing machine and coming out two sizes too small and covered in other people’s germs. She rummaged through her bag, pulling out the notepad where Okami-san had written Sho’s hotel address. 

The Okami had been right; something was off with Sho. His mom had shown her his last Live video, her hand shaking slightly as his voice sparked out the tiny speaker, tinny and fake sounding. 

“He sounds like a worn-out K-pop star,” she had said in wonderment, taking the phone from Okami to rewatch. Ren leaned over her, nodding in agreement.

“Whereas typically he sounds like a total prick,” he whispered in her ear. 

“Definitely off,” he said loud enough for Sho’s mom to hear. 

“Would you… if you… if it isn’t a burden, would you check on him? We don’t know anyone in America except you.” 

Kyoko nodded, stuffing down her guilty regret at sharing the details of her trip with the Okami. Just because she didn’t want to see Sho didn’t mean she couldn’t serve her guardians by doing so. She mentally sucker-punched herself, forcing focus in on the necessity of helping those who had helped her so much. 

Plus, it could be quite fun to see K-Pop Sho. 

She rubbed bleary eyes, trying to fix her hair into a semblance of normalcy before leaving the airport, but the short auburn cut did little to hide her frizz from too many hours of rubbing against a pleather seat. A huff of surrender and she turned and headed for the exit. Sho could take her as she was. He was the one entertaining the anonymous internet masses with his own bedhead, after all. 

She tapped her feet on the floor of the taxi, her jetlag vanquished by the shock of the stark gray buildings engulfing the narrow, traffic-clogged street filled with taxis identical to hers. She absent-mindedly played with her finger where he’d slipped on each flower ring, her heart still reveling over the wonderment of a forever together. Her phone sat on her lap, snagging her attention every few seconds with Kuon’s messages.

\-- _ I miss you already. _

\--I can hear the sad puppy dog face! I miss you too. 

\-- _ Don’t spend too long with the twat. _

\--I’ve only got six hours and a giant hot dog purchase is a must-do. He’s got thirty minutes.

\-- _ I’m sending you Apple Pay; that hot dog is on me.  _

She shook her head at the screen; he was turning into a mess. A beautiful, chaotic, childish mess. The more he let himself free from the Tsuruga Ren personality, the more clearly she could see how much of his maturity had been simply an act. He was possessive, and capricious, and insecure, and hilarious, and needy, and kind, and the most genuinely loving person she’d ever met. 

She’d be willing to bet, though, that jealousy and not kindness was at the heart of his hot-dog purchase. She rubbed her phone screen thoughtfully, a soft smile playing across her face as she thought through all of her potential replies. She settled on the first. 

\--Only if you buy yourself a proper breakfast on me!


	112. Baka!

Sho could feel his breath hot and stale filling the fluffy kingdom of blankets he’d made for himself. He was hiding, and he knew it, and he didn’t give a shit. Shoko had started working the details for his stateside tour; two concert halls had already signed on given his prior releases alone. Four more were waiting on standby to analyze the success of his next release. The Red Rocks in Colorado Springs had sent him an offer without solicitation, cover letter full of excitement over celebrating the “increasing diversity apparent in the Rocky Mountain music scene.” 

The first set date was a month away. 

30 days. 

Not long enough to justify going home. Not short enough to bear. He burrowed farther into his blanket cave. Maybe he could go home. Maybe he could just hop on a plane tonight, fly straight across the ocean, land at Narita and show up at his door unannounced, like a wild man, forcing his way inside and demanding to be heard. 

A sharp rapping knock sounded throughout his room. Just like that -- he’d knock just like that. Unabashed disturbance of whatever was going on inside, his fist forcing its way through conversations and thoughts and blaring television shows with a solid one-two-three punch to the door. The sound escalated, louder and faster, echoing aggravatedly into his cocoon. He sat up with a start. The knock was real. Sho flung the blankets off and hurriedly tried to pat down his hair, licking his palm in desperation to add some measure of sealant to the restyle. Hopeless. The knocker performed a banging crescendo, then fell silent. 

Sho stood still, examining himself in the mirror. He was still in his pajamas despite the hour being past noon. One bruise slid out beneath his white tee-shirt; his shoulder automatically hitched to reposition the hem. The caller had left by now. He should just go back to bed. Or maybe do a Live since he was up. He could shower and go sit on the porch, tell the people stories about his day -- or at least stories about yesterday. One of the days he’d left the room. 

“Sho?” 

His name. It was like a shot in the arm, snaring his attention away from scripting the unscripted Live. The person was still out there. 

“Answer the door, baka.” 

“Kyoko?” His heart tripped, pulsing erratically for a moment as he stared at the closed door. She shouldn’t be here. He looked over his shoulder compulsively. He knew the room was empty. He knew the bed was empty. And yet-- she shouldn’t be here. “You need to leave.”

“Fuwa Shotaro, open the door.” 

He strode to the windows, throwing open the blinds and scanning the parking lot below. No signs. “I can’t -- you need to leave. Please, just trust me.” He heard his voice hitch and grimaced, taking his disdain for himself out on the drapes as he ripped them closed again, plunging the room back into semidarkness. 

“Your mother sent me.” Her voice was threatening now. She was getting angry, but he couldn’t let her stay. She had to go. “And I’m not leaving until I can tell her what on earth is wrong with her precious only child.” Sho rubbed his hands on his face. He didn’t have a choice. He would keep her in the hallway. It could work-- he’d let her see him, give her a story for his mom, and then close her back out. She’d leave then and be safe. 

His hand hesitated still, hovering just above the doorknob. Something inside him was singing a siren song, calling him back to bed, away from the confrontation opening the door to such a shiny person would be. His fingers folded back in on themselves. She was remarkable. He’d thrown such a pile of garbage at her for years; ignoring her tears, blaming all of his problems on her, letting her be subjected to bullying and worse for the dubious honor of being his friend. He’d made each of her problems worse by trying to solve them without any care for her -- forcing himself on her, thinking opening her to hate was the quickest way to link her life to his. Maybe it had grown into some kind of twisted affection, but the start had been a pure desire to control. He liked the way she made him feel important, and did whatever it took to keep her eyes on him. 

He felt like he was going to vomit. He was no better than Reino-- striking out at someone’s weaknesses to keep them alone and dependent. Confusing obsession with affection. Using his strength to pin her, hit her, force her to kiss him. He deserved exactly what was happening to him. 

“Go home, Kyoko.” 

“Don’t even think about hiding your K-Pop-wannabe self in there, Shotaro, I have a mission to complete and you are not keeping me from getting my delicious hot dog because I had to stand here in this empty hallway waiting for you to open the door just so I can prove to your mother that you haven’t lost your mind or gone insane with the stress of it all and that she doesn’t need to hire the yakuza to forcibly abduct you and drag you home to soak in the springs because by God, Fuwa, I will camp out here until--” 

He flung the door open, narrowly missing her nose, his eyes blazing. “Do you think I want to listen to you rant all day? Damn it, Kyoko, sometimes I’m trying to help you-- I know I suck at it, and I know I pick the most god-awful ways to do it, but for so long I’ve only been trying to help you!” He was yelling, flinging it all at her again. Why was he only able to tear her down? He turned away, cringing at himself. He needed the door shut again.

“Sho--” she started, her voice soft. “Sho, stop.” Her hand touched his shoulder and he flinched, stepping away from her. He could see part of her face reflected in the hall mirror, a look full of confusion and worry, half her mouth twisted in dismay. 

“Go home, Kyoko, please. I’m fine.” 

“You clearly don’t understand the meaning of that word.” 

“I said go home!” He roared, turning and smacking away her hand, his anger thrust at her like a weapon. “F the hell off! I’m done with this patronizing-- tell my mom whatever you want, tell her I’ve lost my mind, I don’t care! She can try and rip me back home, I’ll tear the place down around her head!” He could hear his words fragmenting the space around them, lancing out to carve wounds he never wanted her to bear. 

He expected to see anger or fear on her face, but instead all he saw was calm. She was studying him, her hand hanging in the air where he’d flung it. 

“What is wrong?” She asked, the words laid out before him slowly, her eyes trying to penetrate his mask. “What is going on?” A sudden light dawned in her eyes. “This is about the girl-- the one you called about-- what happened? Is she in New York?” 

Her questions came too fast; he blinked, shaking his head like he could clear away the noise. “Girl? No, what-- not-- no. Just no.” He gave up, letting the door slide out of his grip and stepping back into his room. She caught the door and followed him, as he knew she would. Having someone so full of life in this room felt almost like a violation, like she was stretching the space beyond what it would bear. He sat on the edge of the bed and let his hands hang between his legs, waiting for her to interrogate him.

She sat on the ground in front of him, leaning forward to peer up under his bangs, her face disturbingly close. 

“Not girl trouble, then. Drugs?” 

He rolled his eyes at her, turning his face away. She followed his movement, shifting to kneel beside the bed, her elbows braced on the mattress as she peered at him. 

“Work? Are you slacking off again? Is there a new Beagles coming in to prey on your laziness?” 

The name hit him like a cat o’nine tails, ripping open his wounds. He stood abruptly, walking to the window, gripping the closed drapes in his hands. 

Kyoko clucked in triumph, shifting again to sit on the bed. “Work it is. I don’t know who it is pushing your buttons this time, but I thought you were done being a coward about it.” She was so strong and full of passion. He could hear her conviction in her voice, that never-ending drive to be more that filled her. She stood, crossing her arms as she faced him. He should turn and confront her, but if he met her eyes he didn’t think he could keep the floodgates shut. 

“I don’t have anything to do here, then. You’ll either figure out your own voice and shut them up or sink below and then prove you were never able to be my competition in the first place.” She spat the words at him, the increasing venom in her tone forcing him to turn and acknowledge her. 

Kyoko’s eyes were flint and sparks, daring him to start the fire and stop dreaming about it. She stared at him, and he could feel himself being slowly pulled apart, weighed, and found wanting. But there was something in the line of her mouth that held him up-- something hinting that she knew he could be more. That she wanted him to be more. He stood straighter. 

It wasn’t enough to turn the wounds into burning words for his songs. 

He needed to turn them into weapons and burn down Reino. 

“Call me a coward and I’ll--” he started, but she cut him off before he could finish. 

“What? Hit me?” The words felt poisonous but the way she looked at him when she said it was pure tease. Like a sister taunting her brother to chase her through the woods, yelling challenges as they darted through the trees. 

“I’ll prove you wrong,” he said, crossing his own arms over his chest and leaning back against the window. She nodded at him, picking her bag back up and turning to leave, a final parry tossed over her shoulder.

“Good. Because you’re still my prey, and I don’t hunt carrion.” 


	113. Let It Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite chapters in my head. I hope I did it justice. Even more, I hope you all like it!

Koga glared at the bronze numbers marking Kijima’s apartment door. Three-oh-six. He shuffled his feet, kicking at the carpet and looking up and down the hallway. He’d repeated “this is a good idea” in his head so many times while he was getting ready it had become stuck in his head like the mind-numbing lyrics of a children’s song. The mantra on repeat as he tried to decide between a button-up or a t-shirt. Falling off his lips in a whisper as he blow dried his hair, setting the curls in place with mousse. Scrolling like subtitles over the back of his brain as he stood in the liquor store trying to decide between a Spanish red or to go for the sake. 

Now, armored in his striped button-up, clutching a bottle of sake as that one untameable curl fell across his forehead again, he still couldn’t quite make himself believe it. 

He could hear Kijima inside, the man so full of life he was taking over the hallway with his personality. Was it really necessary to sing the Italian mambo just because he was making pasta? Was it? 

Koga pushed the curl off his forehead again and raised his fist to knock. It wasn’t necessary, no, but why did he always have to default to being so critical? He was starting to hate that part of himself. 

The door swung open before his fist descended. 

“Kogs! Being a creeper! Come in, come in-- mambo Italiano, ey mambo--” Kijima shuffled a box-step dance as he stepped back, pointing out the pink house slippers set out for Koga even though Koga had been over so many times he could have dropped the niceties. “Mmm, sake. Weird choice to go with red sauce,” he said with a wink, pulling the bottle out of Koga’s hands. His fingers draped over Koga’s as he did so, the touch warm and pleasant. Sometimes it didn’t matter who the other person was; just touching another human reminded Koga he was alive, and that life was beautiful. Kijima smiled, biting his bottom lip before turning to attend to his simmering sauce in the kitchen. 

Koga followed him, leaning against the kitchen counter. The scents of bay and oregano wafted through the room, blending deliciously with tangy tomato. He had to admit of all the men he’d dreamt about this year, Kijima was the only one who could cook. There were benefits to that. 

“Smells good,” he said. 

Kijima whirled, still walk-dancing in time to the upbeat mambo music, saucy spoon flung out dangerously close to Koga’s face. He skid-stepped closer and Koga could tell he had thought of a juicy pun. He considered running but braced himself instead. Kijima leaned low, his face down by Koga’s abs as he drew in a long, dramatic breath and slowly rose to eye level.

“Yes,” he said, his lips wide in a chaotic grin, “yes it does.” 

Koga swatted at him, his face screwed up. He never knew what to do with Kijima when he got like this. Half of him wanted to blush, the other half wanted to murder him. Kijima caught Koga’s wrist mid-swat and placed the spoon in his palm, winding his fingers around it one by one.

“Come help,” he said. Koga shook his head, but took the spoon and moved to stand by Kijima’s side, stirring the sauce slowly to keep it from burning as it simmered. Kijima hopped on the counter next to the stove, pouring himself a glass of red wine. He raised it to Koga like a toast. “Save the sake for dessert; this is the perfect pairing.” 

“Like us, right,” Koga said, baring his teeth at Kijima.

“Oh, you tease!” Kijima said, eyes bright with laughter.

“Just sparing you the trouble of spouting all the bad puns tonight,” Koga muttered, turning back to the sauce. He hoped the steam would conceal any faint pink on his cheeks. He wanted this to work. This was safe, even if Kiki could be too brash sometimes. He knew him. He didn’t love him, not yet, but that could come right? If you knew someone well enough and you tried hard enough. He swallowed down his unease and forced himself to focus on the dinner they were preparing. 

Kijima slid off the counter. Koga felt him draw near, pressing against his back, his chin resting on his shoulder as he watched him stir. 

“Do I look like I need supervision?” he said.

“The naughty ones always need supervision,” Kijima said, turning his face just enough so he whispered directly into Koga’s ear. His hips ground against Koga’s. He smelled of Cabernet. “And you have been very naughty.” 

Koga kept stirring, forcing his hand to move slowly though it wanted to speed up and move in time with his pulse. Kijima always knew how to make him want it. He deserved it, he told himself, scraping the bottom of the pan. He’d had so much self-control. Maybe too much. What would have happened that night, Sho’s head on his lap, or later— his skin fresh and warm from the shower, if he hadn’t been so in control? Koga licked his lips, drawing a grunt from Kijima that thrust him back to the present. 

Kijima reached over his shoulders to turn off the stove, the action forcing Koga to push himself back into his chest or risk being burned by the pot. Humming, Kijima let his arm fall down across Koga’s chest instead of back in its original position by his side, his fingers now tracing nonsense patterns over Koga’s shirt. Koga could feel his skin start to prickle beneath the gentle contact. 

“Want to see my new favorite video, Kogs?” Kijima asked, his hand unceasing in its gentle exploration of Koga’s shirt. He trailed over the collar now, flicking lightly across skin occasionally, but always returning to the fabric path. 

Koga nodded, unwilling to trust his voice and unwilling to betray the lust rising in him. It had been too long, and he just wanted to want someone he could actually have. 

Kijima’s hand traced down over Koga’s spine before twining through his fingers and leading him over to the couch. He pulled Koga down onto the couch next to him, holding the phone where they both could see, his free hand moving to lie comfortably over Koga’s shoulder, anchoring him as he played with his hair. 

“It’s my new favorite music video,” Kijima said, tapping his thumb on the screen search bar. His voice grew husky. Koga could feel his lips ruffling his hair. “There’s this one part where the silver haired guy runs his hands down the singer’s body and I could swear they’ve seen each other naked.” His teeth nipped Koga’s ear. “I couldn’t wait to show you.” 

Koga’s breath was coming in gasps. The artist’s name was in bold below the paused screen. He didn’t wait to watch this here. 

Kijima pushed play. 

The throbbing of a steady bass line forced itself upon him as the camera panned over an abandoned warehouse. Dry yellow weeds grew through cracks in the pavement; windows cracked and shattered dotted the worn brick face. Kijima played his fingers along Koga’s clenched jaw. 

The camera flew through a window on the lower floor. Koga braced himself, but the sight of the ice blue eyes blazing from the screen still pierced him. He pursed his lips to keep himself silent. Forced even breaths. Sho was... beautiful. His hair flew wild and unkempt over bare shoulders. The style accentuated his slender jaw and delicate lips, drawing a stark contrast between their grace and the firm, lean muscle of his chest. 

Kijima ran his hand slowly down Koga’s neck as Sho started singing, stilling just over his heart. “Wait for it,” he whispered. Koga wanted to tell him to shut up and listen but he swallowed the words as a pair of white, eerily delicate hands slid sinuously over Sho’s shoulders, snaking down his chest to encircle him. Sho’s neck twisted, his veins standing out thick against his skin as he sang. His eyes never left the camera, something cold and dead in their depths that ate at Koga. 

The camera zoomed out far enough to reveal the man standing behind Sho. His purple eyes gleamed with dark emotion a little too close to anger. Koga’s stomach roiled as the man slowly drew heavy chains around Sho, the chains replacing his arms and binding the singer to a metal chair. His voice echoed in the vast space of the empty room, singing words full of passion while his features screamed he was just another piece of debris for the room. 

The music grew more tense, the rhythm accelerating and taking Koga’s heart rate with it as the man traced his hands up Sho’s chains, caressing them as if the iron was his lover. He leaned forward and kissed Sho’s neck, eyes locked with the camera. 

Sho closed his eyes. The man disappeared. Water started rushing into the vast room, waves toppling discarded crates and sweeping metal shards and pieces of pipe into a maelstrom around Sho’s feet. He began to sing the chorus, his eyes still closed, his features unnaturally calm as the water rose higher and higher. 

_The hunter becomes the hunted_

_I wander in the dark_

_Your words tempt and strangle_

_Confusion in my heart_

_It’s time to bury_

_Time to rage_

_Your story’s missing_

_It’s time to rage_

The water rose to his chin; Sho finally reacted, throwing his head back to snatch a breath before the water rushed over him. 

The screen went black. Koga leaned forward, away from Kijima, gripping the phone. An eerily hollow guitar solo ripped through the darkness. Dim light filtered through the water; Sho’s form floated, still bound, his hair floating in halo-like wisps framing his face. 

Koga’s breath felt shattered and rushed. He didn’t like this video. He moved to turn it off but Kijima stopped him, pulling his hand to his mouth to kiss the tip of his fingers.

Sho’s body twisted in the current, his back arching as the water pushed his chair. His head, hanging low, drifted up in a strange, disjointed movement until his lifeless face was directly in front of the camera. The guitar stopped— silence fell for a moment— 

His eyes snapped open, stealing Koga’s breath. Black pupils lit by flames confronted him. 

_Let it burn_ , once-Sho mouthed, bubbles exploding from his lips. 

The guitar screeched as flames started in the depths of the flood, burning impossibly hot around Sho. The water started to boil; Sho bared his teeth in a grin and started to sing again, the water evaporating around him and filling the room with smoke. He stood, the chains sloughing off him, stepped over like carcasses as he walked out of the burning warehouse. Fragments of building fell around him. Sho’s voice rose, his voice arcing to sing the final melody. The camera soared with his words over and into the burning building, flying through a window as it collapsed, the final frame a shot of the man, his purple eyes a deep blood color in the flames. He sat on the chair, unbound, as the fire destroyed the building around him. A smile flickered across his face just as the screen went black. 

The apartment fell silent. Koga gripped the phone, his knuckles white. He blinked heavily, trying to clear his vision. 

Kijima’s hand moved on his shoulder, rubbing gently. “This destroys me every time,” he said. His voice felt like an intrusion. Kijima kept talking, his fingers playing with Koga’s ear, his face tilted to angle up toward Koga’s mouth. “When he runs his hand slowly up his body— you could see it, couldn’t you? That tension between them. Either they’re damn good actors or they’ve been together.” 

Kijima’s forefinger traced lightly over the corner of Koga’s mouth, his eyes dark with lust. “And given that they’ve chosen to be musicians, not actors, I’m going with the latter.” He leaned forward, his eyes lidded and lips eager. 

Koga broke Kijima’s grip and stood, the phone sliding out of his hands to the floor. 

“I need to leave.” 

“What—“

“Leave, Kiki— I need to leave. Where’s my— there. I’m sorry. Thank you for dinner. This isn't working. Enjoy the sake. And the pasta. I’m sorry—“ 

He rushed out the door, his feet carrying him faster than his string of disconnected sentences. 


	114. Late Night Primetime

The building was old, the elevator was broken, it was an hour away from set, and it was absolutely perfect in every way. She was here, finally here, achieving a dream beyond dreams of living with her best friend! Kyoko peered up beneath the water dripping over her forehead to beam at Kanae, earning a gentle smack on the back of her head. 

“Stop moving; the dye will run into your eyes. I’m almost done.” 

Kyoko hummed happily, eager to see Kanae’s art. She had decided to dye her hair back to black for the audition tomorrow. The role read as a bold young woman fiercely loyal to her father and country. Kyoko wanted to express that through her demeanor and script only, and had asked Kanae to help her with the dye. 

Plus, it was a fantastic reason to get a head rub from Moko. If Kyoko had a tail, it would be wagging right now. Kanae turned the water off, plopping a towel over Kyoko’s sopping wet head.

“All done-- now let’s get some dinner out and stop your stomach from making such hideous sounds.”

“All I’ve had today was one hot dog, and that was six hours ago!” 

“Mo, why didn’t you eat more?” 

Kyoko turned soulful eyes on her roommate, looking utterly ridiculous with the too-large towel wadded up on top of her head, catching drips. She blinked slowly at Kanae, as if the answer were too obvious to need to speak aloud. 

“Argh, you don’t need to create excuses for us to eat together. Mo, take care of yourself. Or I’ll kick you out!” Kanae finished with a flourish, abandoning Kyoko in the bathroom to dwell on the consequences of her actions. 

Several hours later a bleary-eyed Kyoko struggled to stay awake on the couch. It was a good thing she’d set the DVR to record his excerpt; she wasn’t sure she was physically capable of staying upright for the entirety. 3 a.m. hit hard the day after traveling halfway around the world, and if it wasn’t for Kanae’s full-body shake when her alarm went off, she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to rouse herself from her coma-like slumber. 

The host was gushing over the awards  _ Tragic Marker  _ had won in London. Kyoko used her fingers to prop up her eyelids, leaning forward to peer at the screen determinedly. Beside her, Kanae drooped over the side-arm of the sofa, her eyes bleary but focused. Every few seconds she’d poke Kyoko in the side with her toe, an insurance policy against her passing out again. 

The host stood, flinging his arm out toward the side of the stage, his voice booming excitedly. “And now I have the pleasure of being the first to bring you, our esteemed viewers, a live interview with Mr. Horror himself, Cain Heel!” 

The studio audience exploded with cheers and clapping. The movie had premiered in Japan the day they’d returned and was the hottest ticket at the box office, selling out every evening show and even a few matinees. It was an incomparable achievement for a horror film. Critics laid the blame at an interview published just prior to the release with Manaka-san and her enthusiastic gushing over the “most handsome man she’d ever worked with” being “a true gentleman” and “everything a woman could want” -- and the revelation that this priceless Example of A Man was not the hero, Murasame, but his cold, vicious co-star Cain Heel. The masses could not reconcile her perception with the bloodshot, murderous eyes glaring at them from building-sized movie posters and flocked by the thousands to see for themselves and agree or condemn her. 

Cain finally emerged, throwing a cold look over his shoulder at the wings. Kyoko sat up tensely, her sleep-fog banished by the adrenaline rush of knowing his plans. 

“Who sat on his sandwich?” Kanae muttered, eyeing Cain begrudgingly. “Kyoko, I still don’t understand what was so important about this actor that we have to wake up at this ungodly hour to see him live. I’m recording it for you-- go back to sleep already.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Kyoko said, biting her lip. She was anxious to see Kanae’s reaction to Cain’s revelations this morning. It was not her secret to tell, even to her best friend. 

Cain slouched in the seat farthest away from the host, ignoring his outstretched hand of greeting. His eyes drifted over the audience, stilling the crowd to hushed murmurs. The host laughed nervously, wiping his hand on his shirt reflexively. He hovered over his seat, then made as if to switch and sit closer to Cain, before plunking himself down in his original chair with a high-pitched squeak when Cain focused the glare on him. 

“Ah, Heel-san, welcome,” he began, bowing politely. Cain grunted. “We are all in love with your work on  _ Tragic Marker _ ,” he said, valiantly attempting to sound excited. “Manaka-san may have been the first to fall, but you have entranced the nation.” 

The words came out stilted and awkward, reading like the script it was. Kyoko tried to stop herself from smiling. It was rough to watch -- Kanae was fidgeting uncomfortably beside her -- but all Kyoko could see was the true prowess of her lover and sempai. He could freeze an entire room with a look. She sighed blissfully, drawing a concerned look from Kanae.

“Kyoko?” Kanae nudged her. “Are you awake still?” 

Kyoko nodded eagerly, not taking her eyes away from the screen where the host was still trying to carry on what was swiftly turning into a monologue. 

“This guy?” Kanae pointed at the screen when Cain was shown in full focus. “All of this is for this guy?” She peered at him, her mouth twisted in distaste. “I thought you liked Ren’s type. This guy is…” Kanae trailed off, suddenly thoughtful. A light shone in her eyes -- she darted her gaze at Kyoko, then back to the screen. 

“Ah,” she said simply. 

Kyoko gave her the briefest of glances. The host was nearing the critical question. She couldn’t spare much attention. “Ah?” 

“Dangerous mission.” 

Kyoko flushed, her lips pursed. She nodded briefly, setting off a triumphant crow from Kanae, quickly squashed. Kanae sat up straight, suddenly intent on watching. 

“Now, ah, Heel-san,” the struggling host continued. “I’ve been told that this is not your true name. Would you-- do you mind-- if it’s not too much to ask…” Each rephrasal grew more and more meek, until the last was barely audible even on the jacket mic the host wore. He was sitting as far back in his seat as possible, looking anywhere except at Cain. Cain had been staring directly at him since the interview began, his eyes cold and dead. The host was sweating lightly and looked nauseous. 

Without warning, Cain smiled. 

There were no promises of pain-- nothing vicious, nothing cold or hateful. It was a true smile, born of genuine joy from deep within him that slammed against the spite he’d filled the stage with, startling the host so badly he fell over backwards in his chair.

The host peeked around his own legs, his eyes wide. Cain was still beaming beautifically. He reached up and slid two fingers under his hairline, slipping off a black wig in a gesture that, had he still been glaring at the host, would have looked horrifically like a voluntary scalping but now, now it was like seeing an angel resurrected from hell. 

The host swooned, his head thumping against the floor. The crowd buzzed with uncertain excitement; a woman screamed; cameras flashed. Cain-- Cain?-- stood and slid his torn leather jacket off to reveal a low-cut cable knit sweater and dark denim jeans. Another woman screamed, the sound of a giddy fangirl that reverberated through the room and set off a chain reaction of estrogen and joy until every female was standing and clapping. The sound revived the host, who rolled off his catastrophe of a chair with a plunk and shuffled up into a groggy standing position. He turned to look at Cain, rubbed his eyes, looked harder, shook his head, blinked. He took a step forward and held his hand out, redoing the welcome gesture of earlier. 

The man -- Cain? -- met his grip, shaking his hand calmly. He leaned forward and whispered in the host’s ear, making him flinch. The host nodded.

“Ah, Heel...san…” He looked at his guest -- Cain? -- who just shrugged, then continued. “Our guest has asked if his parents could join us. I believe they are in the audience? Ah, yes, Heel-san’s parents?” 

Two stunningly beautiful people stood from the middle rows and made their way down to the stage. A middle-aged woman stood and screamed out, “KUU-SAMA!” then fainted dramatically, much to the distress of the smaller man she fell directly onto. Her words threw the room into chaos as the audience surged to their feet again, pushing on each other in an attempt to see the new couple. 

The production crew finally managed to restore a semblance of order as the Hizuris took their places next to their son and sat, a beaming blonde threesome. 

“Hizuri-san, Hizuri Julie-san,” the host said, bowing deeply. “You are the parents of…” His eyes flashed with sudden recognition of the implication. “Your son!” 

Julie smiled gently. “So it would seem.” 

“Your son is…” the host continued, pointing rudely at the man he knew as Cain. 

Kuu’s smile was almost feral with delight as he interrupted. “Tsuruga Ren.” 

The host swayed. The woman in the crowd fainted again, this time into the aisle with a thunk as her partner dodged. The building filled with screams. 

Kanae whacked Kyoko. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” 


	115. Courage

Koga wanted to stick the gum he was chewing right on the giant green iris shining at him. It was the fourth billboard he’d been stuck staring at on his way to Narita airport. He was torn between wanting to buy a full size copy and hiring someone to glue his own face over the triumvirate of personalities his rival had successfully sold to the Japanese public. He’d settled for sneering at him. All three of him. 

Tsuruga Ren was Kuon Hizuri. Koga shook his head. It was a meager sort of comfort, knowing all his messy years of efforts to steal the number one slot had been against the son of the greatest actor Japan had ever produced.

But Kuon Hizuri being Cain Heel undid any state of comfort for the future— the mastery of the role, the double-deception and ability to live a lie so thoroughly he deceived his entire ensemble while also acting out a villain so grotesquely cruel it made audience members physically ill made Koga feel ill himself. This was a god-like level he could not even remember from Hizuri-sama himself, and it was terrifying. Koga pressed his fist against his mouth, staring back at Tsuruga-Hizuri. He had an outlandish desire to bow at the poster. He swatted the air instead, forcing himself to take the pressure and shove it down, reform it and birth it into drive.

At least each poster took his mind off of the complete and total insanity of this trip. His argument with his manager over whether it was appropriate for a star of his caliber to cancel on two television appearances and a modeling gig for a purely personal trip had escalated so quickly that he’d wound up firing the man. Koga itched his arm, fidgeting in place. The security line was taking too long. Giving him too much time for introspection before the last opportunity to easily ditch. 

Kijima’s words were boring into his brain like weevils.

_ Either they’re damn good actors or they’ve been together.  _

He clasped and unclasped his hands. Finally the security checkpoint gave him something to do with all this nervous energy. He had his pocket emptied and bin loaded in record time, bouncing on his heels behind the woman taking an excruciatingly long time to undo her watch buckle. 

So what if they were sleeping together? Reframed, that was actually a good thing. It meant Sho was gay or bi. He had a chance. It may be a ridiculously long shot and a moral gray area but he had a chance. It wasn’t that devious to interfere in a relationship that couldn’t be more than a few weeks old. Especially not if the relationship made one of the partners’ life-light flicker like it had in the music video. 

Koga knew Sho. He was not that good of an actor. He wore his emotions all over his face. Like when he’d ordered the strawberry daiquiri and had burned with embarrassment at being called out for his flamboyant taste in drinks. His cheeks had been hot pink; he’d refused to make eye contact; he’d even hunched his shoulders some, physically shielding his drink from view despite his cocky words of defense. Koga laughed under his breath thinking of when Sho had been pissed about having to make breakfast and chucked the plate of burnt toast at him. His face-- all screwed up and ferocious like he was actually trying to imitate one of the angry god votives. Ah, and the mountain of groceries! Junk food covering the kitchen! His absolute confusion over how to cook, betrayed by furrowed brows and the way his cheek bulged as he chewed on his tongue, standing there holding a bottle of soy sauce like it was space matter. 

His gaze fell on his own feet, cheeks warming as he waited in line for boarding, his mind’s eye filled with still-frames of Sho’s face fresh from the shower, his face red from more than just the shower’s heat, his eyes wide with hope. So easily crushed and turned into lonely anger to match with his own. 

Koga knew his faces. Physical relationship or no, behind the scenes of that video Sho was not happy. 

He hated the part of himself that twisted giddily every time he thought of that, but he couldn’t deny it. The way Sho looked at that man meant Koga had a chance. He may not be wanted, or needed, but he was going to come anyways and if all he did was wake Sho up to the fact that he looked absolutely miserable then at least-- well then at least Sho might improve his acting for next video. 

He was going, and that was that. Koga buckled himself into the seat with determination he didn’t feel and swallowed his sleeping pill. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Alone in the apartment, Sho lifted an amber-filled bottle to his lips, watching his reflection mirror the action. 

“Shut him up or sink below,” he said to his mirror self, tipping the bottle in toast at the vision. He swayed slightly. “‘Course, you need to be brave enough to shut him up.” Sho stared at himself, cocking an eyebrow. He leaned in close, bonking his forehead on the mirror. 

Rubbing his head in irritation, scowling at himself like the reflection Sho was to blame, Sho took another drink. He looked at the bottle. “This’ll help. Yesss… can’t get in my head if even I don’t know what’s in there anymore.” He drank deeply, the cheap liquor burning as he swallowed rapidly. 

A knock on the door. Sho twitched, looking from the door to his reflection with wide eyes. 

“Time’s up,” he said, taking a shuddering breath. One final toast and he strode over to the door. He forced words out, as if speaking first could render him somehow in control of the exchange. “You don’t usually knock--” 

He froze. His next breath was less of an exhale and more of an exhumation, and suddenly he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life knowing the difference. 

“Koga,” he said, his voice faltering. He felt his eyes start to water and shook his head vigorously, but the vision remained. Slowly he raised his hand, his fingers reaching out to touch the one beautifully out of place curl. The other man didn’t move, his gray eyes calm, his chest rising and falling evenly. A dream. A cruel hallucination.

Sho didn’t care. He grabbed Koga by the wrist and jerked him inside, shoving him against the wall and pinning him. He was desperate to hear his voice but anything this drunken dream would give him was like rain in the desert, falling on his parched soul. His lips brushed over Koga’s-- the touch was deliriously real, soft and warm, just the hint of wetness near the center where his lips parted. Sho felt himself tremble. He pressed his lips over Koga’s with a moan, and suddenly the other man was moving. His hands gripped Sho’s face, pulling him in tight, forbidding him from breaking the kiss. The dream answered his every wish as Koga’s lips opened, his tongue hungrily searching for Sho’s, his voice rising and mingling with Sho’s own, filling the dream with the sounds of their need. 

“Oh God,” Sho gasped, not daring to break the kiss, kissing and speaking and crying all at once. “Oh Koga, oh god.” 

Koga’s hands slid under his shirt, slipping it up and suddenly Sho wavered. “No--” he said, the syllable harsh as he stumbled backwards. “You can’t see. This is my dream and you won’t see.” He shook his head, groggy. The room was spinning. He wouldn’t let Reino ruin this dream too. Those marks-- Koga couldn’t know-- he had to-- he fell, tripping over something on the floor, a strong grip catching him and holding him up. He was pressed too tightly into someone’s warmth. 

“No!” he shouted. It had to be Reino. No one else knew. “Don’t touch me. Don’t,” he said, swaying against them. 

“Shhh,” they said. “Sleep. It’s okay.” 

Sho felt himself crying. He’d even gotten to hear his voice. 

Dreams were too cruel. 


	116. Waking Up

The morning light was unkind to his poor throbbing head. Sho heaved himself up off the bed, almost heaving up the meager contents of his stomach as he did. 

“Unh,” he moaned, cradling his head in his hands. Smushing his face as a form of retribution for hurting so badly, he gingerly turned his head, making sure the bed was empty. 

The phantasm of last night had haunted his dreams. He winced, this time more at the pain inside than the way his pulse throbbed against his temple. His subconscious was even better at torture than Reino. He’d been so damn real. Sho let his hands fall, afraid to ghost them across his lips and lose the vague memory of the dream. He stood, the movement taking longer than it took a decrepit old man, easing his way up. 

A sound more snarl than laugh confronted him from the doorway. Sho pressed his eyes closed, his hands covering his ears. It was morning. Another hallucination. He was breaking, slowly breaking. 

Footsteps coming toward him.

He shook his head rapidly, willing away the sensations.

His shoulder— feather-light, nails then digging in— “Don’t touch me!” he screamed, lashing out and throwing off the arm, his eyes meeting amused deep purple ones. A heartbeat and then he ran, shoving past Reino, stumbling to the door, his fingers slipping on the knob once, twice, and he was free, chaotic footfalls racing down the hallway with one thought ringing through his body: GO. 

The sunlight burst over him like a shockwave and he stopped, staggering in place. He threw a glance over his shoulder— no one pursuing— and dashed across the street, collapsing into a seat at the coffee shop counter. His heart was racing, drumming against his rib cage like a terrified bird. A barista started over, then reconsidered and turned back to another table. He gripped the pole below the table, twisting his hands around it as he watched the door to his hotel. 

There. Not two minutes passed and he emerged onto the street, too terribly normal in his black shirt and sunglasses, his silver hair wound up into a casual bun. Sho tensed, waiting, his feet planted and ready to flee. Reino stood quietly, looking over the morning pedestrians going about their business, then put his hands in his pockets and strode off. 

Sho slumped over the table. He couldn’t breathe. No, no— he finally could breathe. He wasn’t going back. He’d buy all new clothes, and luggage, and never go back. He could run! And he had! Sho started laughing, the sound bursting out of him like new wine, shocking and bright. A man beside him frowned, shifting his chair sideways, but Sho didn’t care. He felt it roll out of him, the pain and isolation and fear and suddenly he was just so very, very tired. Smiling weakly, he laid his head back on his hands, a mirror-image of himself in the room. Everything flipped now. 

“Berry boy?” That voice again. Sho smiled, nuzzled down farther into his arms. They might throw him out for sleeping here, but he’d risk it for a few more glimpses of his dream. 

“Sho,” Koga’s voice said. A hand fell on his shoulder and Sho jerked up, spinning around. 

He held a small coffee in each hand. Paper to-go cups, little stoppers in the lids. Manicured fingernails, all the same length, capped fingers that obscured the scribbled notations for the coffee orders. “C / WC / “ read one, “St / S / WC” the other. Jacket zipper hanging slightly askew, defying gravity by sheer willpower and a pull tugged too hard too often. All these details, filed away one by one as his brain struggled to wrap itself around the reality that this was not a dream. 

“You’re… here,” he said, the tone implying a question. 

Koga held a coffee out to him. “You’re hungover.” 

The cup was overly warm. Sho clung to it, the heat sinking through to his pulse. 

“I’m not dreaming.” 

Koga frowned at him. “You’re in a coffee shop. Do you normally fall asleep in coffee shops? Or is this some affected ‘I’m a cool American’ thing.” 

Sho wanted to rub his eyes like a child on his birthday; he spun the coffee in his palms instead. “I— no, not normally— why are you here?” 

Now it was Koga’s turn to stammer. 

“Ah. Why. You.” 

“A-Y-U?” 

Koga shifted his weight, considering his coffee as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Can we?” He nodded at the hotel across the street, his eyes flicking to the customers on either side of Sho and back. 

“Oh. Yeah, yeah.” Sho swallowed, standing. The movement brought him close enough to bump Koga’s coffee by accident. He mumbled an apology, but Koga neither answered nor moved back, his stillness drawing Sho’s gaze up. He was close enough to see himself in his eyes. Last night came rushing over him and with a sharp intake of breath Sho realized none of it had been a dream. He leaned forward, drawn in by the way Koga’s lips pressed together when he swallowed. 

Koga stepped back and the spell broke. The tips of his ears burning with embarrassment, Sho turned and led the way out, sipping the scalding hot coffee as they crossed the street. His nerves were humming, filling his mind with white noise during the elevator ride. 

He managed to get the door open, and they were inside. 

“Went and got your boyfriend?” Reino drawled, sitting back on the bed indolently. 

“Sho?” Koga questioned, still partially in the hallway. 

Reino stood, walking over to take the coffee from Sho’s hand. He sipped it, making a face before throwing it with a splash into the trash can. He leaned in to whisper in Sho’s ear. “Good… you were starting to become predictable.” 

Sho could feel the anger rising in him, mixing with potent shame. Koga could see-- he was there-- and the knowledge that he was watching him be pulled apart, trapped and turned into a pathetic excuse for a man twisted inside him. 

“You left-- you--” he started, his hands pressing against Reino’s chest. He grunted, forcing the words out. He would not be the pathetic one, not now. “You missed her, you know-- she’s gone!” He felt triumph surging through him at the knowledge that at the very least he’d been spared that much. Everything else was burning, but this dick had missed out on the one thing he had wanted.

Reino’s laugh ripped through his triumph. “I know,” he said, his voice silken as he stepped back. His eyes were still staring over Sho’s shoulder. Koga was so quiet. Had he left? Sho couldn’t blame him; he wouldn’t want to watch this sick show. He had to get out of here--

“I lied,” Reino said, cutting off Sho’s thoughts. He looked up at Reino in startlement. “It made it more fun, you thinking you were saving someone.” Icy realization crept over Sho, freezing him slowly. “It was never about her. It’s always been about you.” Reino finally looked at him, drawing a fingernail slowly down his neck. “Carefully, tenderly, breaking you.” 

A snarl erupted behind him and Koga’s hand struck out, grabbing Reino’s collar over Sho’s shoulder and shoving him back against the wall. He stepped around Sho, his face twisted with rage. 

“You bastard.” He spat the words out. 

“Don’t let him touch you!” Sho yelled. He reached for Koga to pull him back but Reino was there, wrapping his fingers around Koga’s wrist, a dark smile twisting his features. 

“This one is your choice?” Reino’s voice fell mockingly over Sho, a drape of darkness. His gaze raked over Koga. “He’s broken.” His fist tightened around Koga’s wrist as he leaned in close. “Empty.”

Koga’s eyes lit with fire. “You know what happens when you break an empty bottle?”

Uncertainty flickered in Reino’s eyes, his grip shifting on Koga as unsaid thoughts passed between them. 

“It becomes a weapon.” 

He had time to snarl before Koga’s fist was slamming into his face, punching him again and again. It was a moment, a heart’s breath of fury but Sho could see it all, the shock of impact, the way knuckles dig into skin and bone, lip splitting and bright blood staining flesh and then it was done and Reino was staggering, rushing, his face white and wild as he cursed at them and fled and he was gone.


	117. Warmth

\--he was  _ gone _ .

Sho’s feet echoed Reino’s, staggering, falling back against the wall. Koga’s back was to him, ramrod straight. His beautiful hand, so careful with their coffees, hung by his side, knuckles cracked and bleeding. 

“Why could you— I wasn’t—“ Sho faltered, his eyes staring wildly at the door Reino had rushed out. “I tried, so many times, and I couldn’t—“ 

“I had something that I knew was worth protecting,” Koga said, his eyes watching Sho cautiously. He took a step forward, his hand lightly touching the back of Sho’s, asking permission to unfold. 

Sho’s eyes widened, filling with unspoken fear. “Me. Oh god, Koga, no— I’m not worth it—“ 

Koga shook his head to silence him, his hands reaching up to draw Sho close, filling his vision. “Shut up, idiot. You’re Berry Boy.” He pulled back just far enough to be able to look into Sho’s eyes, his words transient over Sho’s skin. “Of course you’re worth it.” 

“I hate that nickname,” Sho said, the words a whisper. Koga was so close; tilt his head to the side and he would be able to feel his cheek press against bare skin. Koga sighed. His breath smelled like peanuts. Sho could feel his mind starting to short-circuit, craving impulsiveness. He forced himself to be steady. “I hate my real name, too.” 

His nose brushed against Sho’s, a gesture Sho’s mom always called a penguin kiss. “Names are just a label. You are more and less… you’re burnt toast and cheap puddings, Tokyo midnights and the raw chord transitions of a self-taught artist.” Sho could feel the ghostly kisses of his eyelashes brushing against his temple. His exhale was shaky and unfettered. 

“Shotaro,” Sho said, a nervous laugh escaping him. It was all too clear now, like Koga’s simple words had shined a spotlight on the hole in Sho’s defenses. He couldn’t protect himself against Reino because he hadn’t wanted to. Not himself -- he’d been driven to protect his reputation, his craft, even his old friend, but never once own up to who he really was. He’d lived out the act for so long he wasn’t sure how to dismantle it, but finally, desperately, he wanted to try. 

Koga’s lips pressed against his temple, their warmth spreading through to the core of his being as he wrapped his arms around him. “My Berry Boy,” Koga said, the words said with a whisper of teasing laughter that felt more like a lover’s confession to Sho than any Shakespearean sonnet. 

“Why do I get all the embarrassing nicknames?” Sho demanded playfully, his hands winding around Koga’s back, tingling with the joy of exploration. 

“Mmmm,” Koga murmured, his lips pressing against the dent just below Sho’s ear, making Sho’s breath hitch. “Because you’re the embarrassing one.” 

Sho balled a fist and tried to punch him, but the angle was all wrong and it ended in a slightly awkward thump to Koga’s back. Koga laughed. “See?” he said, poking Sho’s nose gently. 

“What’s all this about owning myself and then calling me embarrassing? Mixed messages, you dick.” Sho pretended to pout, but his mind couldn’t move far enough past the way Koga’s eyes looked like they were flecked with silver from this distance to actually be irritated. 

Koga drew near, his mouth so close Sho could feel his body coming alive to the anticipation. “I said  _ my  _ Berry Boy, didn’t I?” 

Then some glorious how they were kissing; raw, real need coursing through his veins and surely into Koga’s, everything funneling into the desperation of desire and the simplicity of knowing he was  _ his _ , this man, all firmness and angles and sharp words, and Sho was melting under his touch like chocolate. 

Every movement was a re-creation. The room felt like it was opening, widening again, losing the imprint of pain because he was here, and he was his, and Sho’s thoughts were circling the words “oh God,” over and over because what else was there to say? And then it ended, cheek pressed against cheek, moving still but quieter and he could tell Koga was thinking. 

He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Koga and burying his face in his shoulder. He didn’t want to hear his questions, but he wouldn’t run. 

“Why?”

That could mean so many things. Sho waited, unwilling to make the path of answers himself. 

“What did he do to you?” 

He hugged Koga, willing time to just pause. Stop right where it was and not force him to stand back and bare wounds more emotional than physical. Words flew in and off, discarded, not right. He could sing him a thousand songs, but to stand here and say it fell short. 

Sho straightened, gently pushing Koga back a step. Koga’s face was lined with concern, his hand outstretched already trying to draw Sho back in. 

Sho shook his head, then, chewing on his lip in anxiety, slid his shirt up and off. He threw it over on the bed and stood before Koga. Koga’s eyes fell, drawn down by his action. Sho watched as they widened, then narrowed, filling with cold anger. His arms trembled with the need to wrap around and hide himself. 

“It’s stupid. They’re just marks. But he— I couldn’t—“ Sho’s voice caught on the shame and doubt warring within him and he stalled. Koga shook his head, his eyes darting from mark to mark as if he were counting them. 

“You know how many times I tried to get away? I finally stopped trying.” He couldn’t watch Koga’s eyes anymore, not while he was sharing this, but the words were clawing to get out. “It turned into some sort of dog and bitch relationship. He’d show up just to remake the marks deep enough to be seen then disappear.” Koga’s fingers trailed over his collarbone, making him shiver, drawing his words out from where he’d buried them deep in the memory. “Almost made it worse— he just wanted to taunt and tame me, didn’t actually want me.” He grimaced, swallowing something sour back down his throat. 

Sho wiped his mouth on the back of his hand as Koga watched with burning eyes. 

A kiss, gentle as air, on the darkest mark just over his heart. Koga’s voice, murmuring against his skin, barely heard but burning into his soul.

“I want you, Shotaro.” 

And then he was being pulled to the bed, tumbling down beside him as Koga’s hands ran smooth over his skin, carving trails of warmth searching out every single bruise. He would pause and run his lips over the mark, whispering Sho’s given name like a prayer. 

He was crying. Tears ran unasked for down his face as he stared at the same ceiling where he’d lain and wished to see him. He reached down and touched his curls, gasping as lips pressed on the sensitive spot just below his ribs.

“Koga,” he said, holding him tightly. Koga nuzzled him, rolling him over to lay against his back, side by side on the bed. 

“Shhh,” he whispered, his fingers still moving gently over Sho’s torso, remembering each spot. His head rested in the nook of Sho’s neck, curls tickling the skin just below his hairline. 

Moment by moment, Sho let himself relax and slowly drifted to sleep in his arms. 

Sho woke the next morning nestled inside Koga’s hug still, his face slightly sticky from the warmth of his skin, a warmth threatening to pull him back under to dreams. He’d slept tucked deep into the crook of his body, snuggled up between his chin and shoulder. Koga shifted and suddenly Sho was wide awake, his heart racing as images of his position flashed through his mind’s eye. He felt a heat building deep within him that had nothing to do with embarrassment. 

He buried his head in Koga’s shoulder, hiding from his embarrassment by burrowing farther into it. 

He was gay. 

No, bisexual. 

Sho smeared his face over Koga’s skin. Labels, labels, labels— people always wanted a label! Koga’s hand pressed into the small of his back, drawing Sho’s gaze to see two amused gray eyes watching him. 

Label it whatever you want. He was in love. 

“Do you want breakfast?” He managed to mutter. He was sure his face was on fire. 

“Mmmmm,” Koga said, tilting his head in consideration, Sho still wrapped around him. “Yes, but only if you don’t cook it.” 

A swat was necessary. Sho pushed up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed and stretching languidly. Jeans were uncomfortable to sleep in but everything else felt so… good. 

“There’s no food in the place anyways,” Sho said, tossing the room phone at Koga. “Order room service.” 

Koga dialed and started listing off requests to the concierge. Sho grabbed his phone, pulling up his messages. 

Koga’s phone started to ding with alert after alert after alter. He missed a word on part of his order, attention drawn irresistibly to the manic device. “What the…?” He said, then back to the concierge. “No, no that’s all. Fifteen minutes is fine.” 

Koga reached over and grabbed his phone. He looked up at Sho, eyes curious beneath furrowed brows. 

“I…” Sho paused, blushing. He sat on the bed next to Koga, fiddling with his own phone. “I’ve been… thinking of you. I just didn’t know… I didn’t want to bother you, so I never sent them.” 

Koga shifted to look directly at Sho, one hand holding his phone and the other rising to gently cup Sho’s chin, his thumb caressing Sho’s jaw as he read. 

“Don’t drink too much, you ass— nice. Thanks. That would be a waste of time. Who the hell parties without daiquiris?” 

Sho’s face was burning. He turned his head ever so slightly, pressing his lips against Koga’s palm. “I know, right?” he whispered. Koga dropped his hand, shifting again to lean back against Sho, his curls tickling Sho’s chin. 

“I never slack. You’re a bastard for implying I do. You’re the— hah!” He sat up, the bed swaying beneath his sudden move. “You drunk texted me!” Koga roared with laughter, punching Sho playfully. But Sho knew the rest of the message and waited, watching for Koga’s reaction. There— the tips of his ears. So that was where he blushed first. He reached up and brushed his fingers over Koga’s ear, tucking a curl behind to see more clearly as Koga read the last message. 

“I missed you too,” he murmured. “Idiot.” 

“Now you sound like Kyoko,” Sho said, laughing. 

“Does that mean you have a type?” 

Sho growled and tried to tackle him, wrestling him across the room. “Yeah— lovesick morons!” 

“Oh-ho! It tries to snipe!” Koga had him around the neck, his arms a playful vise.

“Tries! You ass—“ 

“Come on, you can be more creative than that Berry Boy—“ 

“I’m going to kill you—“

The doorbell rang; the two men froze, a comedic duo of bedhead-clad wrestling stooges. 

“Room service? Hello?” 

Sho shoved Koga off and ran to get the door. “You better have gotten something chocolate, bastard!” 

Two steps from the door and Koga’s shirt hit him in the back. He turned, a retort on his lips dying as he saw the tenderness in Koga’s expression. 

“I thought…” he trailed off, gesturing at Sho’s torso. 

Sho blushed, shoving the shirt over his head with a thankful nod. It smelled like him. 

For the first time, he didn’t mind all the bruises. 


	118. Stereotypical Butt-Kicking Mandatory

Kyoko peered over the traffic barrier erected along the perimeter of the set, shading her eyes as she scanned the multitude of actors for her best friend. Kanae saw her first, her graceful wave drawing Kyoko’s attention. She leaned over to a man beside her, pointing at Kyoko. The man nodded, and jogged to Kyoko’s side. He lifted the barricade and nodded her through. 

“Miss Kotonami’s guest? Here’s a badge. Keep it on while on set, please.” 

Kyoko draped the VIP GUEST : ALL ACCESS pass over her neck like it was a chain of priceless pearls, her fingers caressing it. This was proof that the world was learning just how amazing Kotonami Kanae was, and she would cherish it her whole lifelong! If they let her keep it. She hoped they let her keep it. Kyoko leaned down and grabbed a rock from the ground. She’d keep that too, just in case.

Kanae looked beautiful in her lace and satin dress, the sea foam color setting off her alabaster skin perfectly. She the perfect rich young lady—- a immigrant from China, daughter of a lord, living in the United States. She was meant to challenge the stereotypes of the day, turning American turn-of-the-century society on its head with her intellectualism and poise. 

She was perfect for the role. Kyoko was certain the lead was going to fall madly in love with her. He may even try to abduct her. She was suddenly on alert for suspicious behavior, sweeping her eyes cautiously over the male cast.

Kanae hugged her lightly, taking the moment to whisper, “Calm down,” in Kyoko’s ear. Kyoko nodded briskly, still vibrating with excitement and tension over being on Kanae’s real-deal-American-movie set. She wanted to bounce and scream and flail and lift her friend up on her shoulders, spinning her around and yelling for the entire cast to bow down and acknowledge the prowess of MOKO-SAN! 

“Hostess mode,” Kanae snapped, poking her friend sharply. Kyoko felt herself glide into calm, a serene smile replacing the rictus joy that had transfigured her face. She breathed deeply, the only indication of the raging pride inside the flickering light in her eyes as she stood next to Kanae. “Thank you,” Kanae whispered. She paused, adjusting her sleeves as if considering her words carefully. “I’m.. glad you’re here.” 

Kyoko bit her lip, just barely maintaining her outer shell of calm. “So am I, Moko, so am I!” She wanted to squeal. She kept it to a squeak. 

“Is Tsuru— I mean,” Kanae paused, the name change still too fresh for comfort. “Is Hizuri-san still coming to meet you here today?”

“Kanae, he asked you to call him Ren-kun, that goes for Kuon as well.” 

“Kuon-kun sounds like I’m baby talking a vegetable.” 

“Moko!”

A tall blonde man finished speaking with part of the crew and made his way over to the pair, waving a script in the air. 

“Kanae, they’ve changed the damn thing again— how am I supposed to recover from their incompetence? A man can’t be expected to memorize the same scene fifty times,” he paused, seemingly noticing Kyoko for the first time. He started to turn away, facing Kanae more directly in an oblique move to privatize their conversation. Kyoko bowed deeply, her back perfectly straight and eyes gently averted as she rose.

“Ah,” he said, turning back to include her with his body language. “And this is?” 

“Kyoko,” Kanae said, choosing to use just her stage name. 

Kyoko bowed her head, pulling her card from her pocket and handing it to the man, still without looking at him directly. 

“Kyoko-chan,” he said. The added honorific somehow sounded unpleasant as it rolled off his tongue. Like he was chewing his food with his mouth open. He nodded at her— or was it meant to be a slight bow? “Cedric Duris. Kanae’s costar and lead on the film. You are… an extra?” 

Kyoko shook her head, avoiding pointing out the vibrantly colored guest pass draped over her chest. “Merely visiting, Mr. Duris.” 

“Please, Duris-sama will do.” 

“Duris-san,” Kyoko said, fighting the urge to grimace at his request. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to be sensitive to her culture and was merely a boor, or if he meant to put her in a certain position. It left a queer taste in her mouth. 

Duris eyed her boldly, his gaze lingering on her hands. “Have you a kimono with you?” 

She frowned the outlandish question, but Kanae intervened before she could speak. 

“Cedric, we need to rehearse if they changed the script. With me?” She gestured at two chairs beneath an umbrella. “Kyoko, I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re starving after auditions— I want to hear, please? Wait?” 

Kyoko nodded briskly. Of course she’d wait. Her muscles ached terribly after the strain of the audition. She knew the role was physical, but hadn’t expected to be asked to climb a telephone pole using only a pair of leather-strapped weights on the first day. She rubbed her triceps as she wandered off looking for the food. Thank goodness it had only been two weeks since Momiji wrapped up, or she might have bombed her first impression! 

A tap on her shoulder; she turned to see a broad-shouldered man holding a pad of paper and a pen. 

“Excuse me, but, ah— are you Kyoko?” 

Startled, she nodded, setting her lunch plate down. “I’m here for Kanae Kotonami. If I’m in the way, I’m sorry, I can see her back at our—“

“Can I get your autograph?”

Kyoko blinked at him. She pointed at herself, then at his pen.

“You’re the actress that’s going to play Mulan, right?” 

“Well, it’s not—“

“I saw that video, some freaky shit! My friend— he’s a cameraman on your set, he sent it to me— sent it to me, you’re just sitting up there smiling just like Peng! I could die, I mean, you weren’t even supposed to be able to do that and you went and—“

“Do what, Kyoko-chan?” Cedric asked from beside her. 

The dude spoke over her. “Climb the pole! It was a test to see her reaction and guts, and she freaking just  _ did _ it. Who  _ does _ that?” He held the paper out to her again, his smile wide. “Please?” 

She took the paper, signing her name in kanji and English, handing it back to him with both hands and a polite bow. He grinned, thanking her before leaving. 

“Already gathering a fan base I see,” Cedric said, putting some fresh fruit on her plate for her. 

She shook her head in wonder. “I confess I do not understand. I do not even have the part yet. It is presumptuous to think that merely because I succeeded in—“

Cedric cut her off with a thrilled laugh. “Merely? Climbed a telephone pole on set, no stunt person? Oh, you Japanese always understating everything. Disgusting in a man but in women... it’s decided. You must call me Cedric-kun. Let’s have dinner tonight.” 

“Ah, thank you, but I—“

“No buts. We can go to Sakura restaurant. You would be fetching in a kimono; did you bring one?” 

“A kimono? No, it is not traditionally worn except—“ 

“I’m sure I could find one,” he said, his eyes on her waist. “Though your frame is exceptionally delicate…” 

She felt distinctly uncomfortable. “Duris-san, I have a—“

“Cedric-kun,” he interrupted, stepping closer.

“I must insist—“

“Oh must you?”

He was too close now, his hand gripping the table, cornering her against the egg salad sandwiches. There were a hundred people around and not a single person was paying any attention! She had a sudden urge to grab a sandwich and throw it at his face. But she was here as Kanae’s guest, and she would not bring shame onto her friend’s name. 

“Excuse me,” she said as curtly as possible, pushing past him into the open. She strode away, finding Kanae over by a portly man who appeared to be the director by the way he was bullying everyone around him. She slowed her pace, uncertain if interrupting that chaos was wise. She saw a group of bored-looking extras and walked over to join them, smiling brightly. 

“Hi, I’m Kyoko-- may I join you?” 

A young girl shrugged, not looking up from her cell phone. She was streaming some sort of video. It ended, the screen beginning Countdown to Next Video. 

“Wait…” she said slowly, pulling her eyes away from the screen with obvious effort. “What’d you say your name was?” 

“Kyoko,” she offered brightly, holding her hand out to shake. 

“Like… this Kyoko?” The girl held her phone out. The video had freeze-framed on a still of her with her legs swung out, her face carefree as she perched on top the thirty foot pole. She wouldn’t soon forget the feeling of triumph that moment had given her, looking down on all the gape-mouthed faces. 

“Yes, but why do you have that? I thought it was just… his…” She cast about for the cameraman unsuccessfully. “Ah, someone’s friend’s video.”

“Someone’s friend put it on YouTube,” the girl answered, her voice making plain this was trivial. 

“Oh.” 

She was being regarded with a new level of respect by the gangly preteens in the extra crew. A beat longer, and the entire set stood, clustering around her, questions pouring out of formerly taciturn mouths, demanding to know all about Mulan and the set and the climb and the cast and who in the holy heavens above was going to play Captain Shang. 

Kyoko couldn’t see Cedric anywhere. She forced herself to relax, reminding herself of the oddities cultural differences produced and how it was likely she’d misinterpreted his behavior. He was just trying to make her comfortable, in the most boorish stereotype-laden manner possible. 

The extras claimed her as their own, showing her all the ins and outs of the massive set, decking her out in period clothing they nicked from the costume trailer (“no one ever misses these, we’ve used them to get in to the good stash of food for the main actors tons of times”), making her autograph the bathroom walls and, finally, dropping her off exhausted with her own chair to sit in next to Kanae’s. She had just wilted into the seat when the two main leads came off-camera to join her. 

Kanae smiled warmly at her, the adrenaline from acting still racing. Cedric spoke first, gliding between the two women.

“Fantastic job, Kanae, but you know-- if you really wanted to nail the part of a proper young Asian woman you should study your friend some more. She’s simply… perfect.” 

It was supposed to be a compliment, Kyoko thought, but the way he drawled out the word made her skin crawl. She shook her head in denial, looking at Kanae pleadingly. Kanae just looked pissed. 

“Kyoko, I’m done for the day, let’s go home.” 

Kyoko nodded eagerly. 

“Wait for me. I’ll just go change. Cedric,” she said, dismissing him with a nod. The actor smirked, his eyes lingering on Kyoko before he wandered off. “Kyoko, pay him no mind. He’s got some weird fetish for Asian women, he was like that with me too when I arrived. The sharp side of my tongue has disabused him of any ideas he may have had. Forget being a hostess-- please, be Momiji.” 

Kyoko laughed, her spirits raised by Kanae’s hushed diatribe. Her friend squeezed her arm and gave her another look, seeking reassurance. 

“Momiji, I got it,” she said. “Go change!” 

Kyoko shooed her off, sitting in her chair. She started to text Kuon, but he had said he’d message when he arrived in L.A. and there was nothing yet. His flight must have been delayed. She sighed, stuffing her phone back in her pocket and headed to the front gate to wait for Kanae. 

He met her halfway, his hand slipping out and catching her elbow as she strode, spinning her around to face him. 

“Am I not good enough for either of you?” he snarled, his voice strangely tense. “Not submissive enough?” His eyes were wide, the whites showing around his pupils. He hurled his words at her. “You’d prefer some one-off with no masculinity.” He leaned in, breathing deeply as if he were trying to inhale her. He shoved her, making her stumble backwards. She hit a wall, scraping her elbow. He was on top of her then, blonde hair falling forward over his face as he leaned down to stare directly into her eyes, his breath stale and hot. She tried to dodge to the side, but his arms pinned her, and when she ducked he grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her back. 

“It’s just because you’ve never tried a real man before.” His lips pressed against hers, slimy and hot. She was flailing, pushing against him, trying to turn her face away. He let her, sliding his mouth down over her neck, his teeth grazing over her skin. 

“Stop!” She cried out, beating on his chest. “Help!” 

He covered her mouth with his hand, his eyes wild. “I thought Japanese women were quiet. Are you some slut version?” 

She stared at him, her knees going weak. He’d lost his mind. Fear filled her at the very real danger she faced. She had one chance to get this right and get out of here -- and get Moko out. She pretended to slump into a faint, making him drop his guard as he tried to catch her. She rocketed her knee up, slamming him in the crotch then chopping out at his neck with the broadside of her palm. His cry of pain became a gasp and he staggered backward, holding his throat and his balls. She ran blindly away, tears falling as she tried to remember the way to the exit. 

“Kyoko!” A familiar voice. 

“Kuon--” she gasped, pivoting mid-stride and running over into his arms. 

“Kyoko, what--”

“Cedric, he, he--” 

She felt a shift in him as the name passed over her lips. He was suddenly draw overly taut, like a new bowstring. 

“Who.”

“Cedric Duris, he--”

“Where.” 

She pointed, her finger shaking. Kuon nodded. He looked feral, like something inside him had been set free and it was raging for a kill. He stalked off, his eyes on the shadows where Cedric still crouched. 

He reached down and pulled the man up by his collar. Cedric’s eyes were still watery with pain, but blazed with unmistakable recognition when he saw his new accoster. 

“ _ You _ ,” he spat. 

“Hello, cousin.” 


	119. Mulan

Kuon hadn’t stopped embracing her since he’d dumped Cedric in a pile on the ground. He cracked his knuckles every few seconds, still dying to plant them deep inside his asshole of a cousin’s brain. His fiancée had done a decent enough job at dismantling the pervert’s manhood, though, so he settled for holding him up against the wall by his shirt collar. 

“Touch her again and you die, pervert,” he’d snarled. 

Cedric wheezed out a gasping syllable Kuon took for agreement. He had dropped him then and his miserable excuse for a family member slid down into a vaguely human bundle. 

Welcome home indeed. He gripped Kyoko tighter, wrapping his arms around her. 

“I can’t-- breathe-- Kuon--” 

“Ah,” he muttered, relaxing a fraction. “Sorry. I just…” He trailed off, settling for expressing himself by nuzzling the top of her head. 

“So…” she started, her hand squeezing his. “Cousins…” 

He didn’t want to talk about it, but he did. He laid out the whole story for her, sharing the details he’d withheld when he told her about Rick. Cedric had been the reason for his mental snap. He’d singled him out from a young age, jealous of his parents, jealous of the easy way Eltra adored Kuon while he piled expectations on Cedric. He fixated on Kuon’s heritage, accusing him of betraying some Japanese ideal merely by existing. The attacks had grown physical as Cedric’s family influence won him a posse despite his lackluster acting skills. Kuon’s world eroded slowly, his body and mind worn down by the relentless attacks. He never once told his parents who was at the root of the trouble. They’d assigned the blame to jealous co-stars, which was true enough, and Kuon hadn’t wanted to risk fracturing their relationship with Eltra. 

Now, though, he wished he had. If he had just said something, maybe Cedric would have been kicked out of show business. Or at least watched. But instead he’d been able to persist, and had laid his hands on Kyoko and who knows how many other women. Kuon grit his teeth in disgust. He would share it all now, that was for certain, and see his acting career eviscerated.

She listened to all of it, her embrace growing tighter with each new revelation until now it was he who couldn’t breathe. He kissed the top of her head, shifting to lift her up onto his lap and break her grip. She’d conceded to stay with him, “at least for tonight,” and he was going to take full advantage of momentarily stealing her from Kanae. Kanae was pissed; she was distraught with worry for her friend, but she’d allowed it when she saw Kyoko’s face. 

He wanted to take her mind off it all. “Kyoko,” he said. “Will you go on date with me?” She laughed, her chin resting on his chest as she looked up, up, up at him. 

“Of course, silly.” 

“I got us tickets to a concert next week to celebrate the start of filming. Do you want to…?” 

She smiled, nodding. 

The week flew by. Both of them had been accepted without callbacks for the parts of Hua Mulan and Captain Shang in the live action remake. He was finally here, getting to act alongside her, getting to watch her slowly fall in love with  _ his _ character, not someone else’s. 

Ah, and finally in America. That too. It seemed almost inconsequential next to the sheer power of acting opposite his lover. They were working on the training scenes today, when Shang was beating Mulan down. He had to radiate disappointment in her, and it was harder than expected. She cowered on the ground in front of him, having failed yet another strength test. Every fiber in his being was nothing but proud of her and her guts, taking on a fully English speaking role in America like it was nothing and destroying every single second of it. He knew exactly how difficult it was to master acting in a non-native tongue. He had to suppress all of that and leave himself empty for Shang to see what she was, a failure.

A failure that could cost lives. Shang stood before her, sweat trickling down his bare chest from the exertion of leading the training. He refused to spare himself, giving his all to every demanding exercise he threw at his cadets. He would lead by example or not at all. 

“You’re a disgrace.” He threw the words at her like spears. “Did your family send me a daughter instead of a son?” He spat on the ground beside her, his mouth full of bile as he considered the weakness of the recruit in front of him. “War is life and death. I cannot use you. Men will die because of your weakness. Go home.” 

Peng quailed in front of him, his words slicing into joint and marrow. Too-slender fingers dug into the dirt, finding purchase to push herself up. Everything about this recruit was weak. 

“I will not.” 

“Go  _ home _ , recruit,” he snarled. 

“I will not.” Peng was forcing himself to stand, body weak after his brutal training but eyes demanding recognition.

“I will make you.” He loomed over the recruit, still taller by more than a foot. 

“CUT! Excellent, Kuon, Kyoko-- ten minute break.” 

She stood, prancing over to his side. “This is the best!” 

“What? Me trying to destroy your morale?” 

She whacked him. “Acting alongside you. It’s thrilling, don’t you think?” 

“Mmmm,” he agreed, reaching down to draw her close to him. He placed a kiss on her neck, making more than one staffer reach for their phones. They were sure to be on the tabloids tomorrow, but he didn’t care. Today they were getting off early, and he was taking her to the concert. Tonight… he let his thoughts trail off. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispered in her ear, rewarded for his impudence by the sight of her blushing scarlet red. She turned and pecked him quickly on the cheek in reply before skipping off to the changing rooms. 

He settled into his chair, reviewing the script once more. The cadence of English was totally different, and after years in Japan it was refreshing to speak his childhood language on camera. Yashiro stood behind his chair, sliding a note with the day’s schedule into the back pages of his script. He smiled up at his friend, shading his eyes from the sun’s glare. 

“Thanks, Yukihito-kun,” he said.

Yashiro blinked at him, his face blank. 

“I’m sorry,” Kuon retracted, “I should have asked first before switching—“

“No!” Yashiro cut him off. “No, please do. Ah, Kuon-kun?” 

Kuon grinned broadly. “Just Kuon.” 

“Ay-yah!”

“You sound like a housewife.” 

“Save that role for Kyoko-chan, Kuon— speaking of which,” he said, waving Kuon’s attention over to where Kyoko was exiting her trailer in full battlegard. 

“I don’t have many scenes left today, Yukihito, if you’d like to go find Kanae-chan.” 

Yashiro nodded emphatically, double-checking their schedule before dodging off to call Kanae. This was all beyond what he’d dreamed of when he thought of returning home. He was home, on an American set by his own power. But he’d been able to bring something much more precious than a new reputation along. 

He watched Yashiro pick up his pace as he neared the exit, his face beaming in anticipation. Across the set Kyoko stood in her armor, transformed yet again into a completely different person. They were jumping around in scenes today, taking advantage of the light, and now she was filming Mulan after her reveal as a woman. Peng had carried himself entirely differently, a false swagger pervading his every move that read somewhat awkward, like a preteen pretending to be his father. Mulan stood naturally, comfortably, and yet looked more authoritative than anything Peng had even dreamed of. 

He’d left America determined to punish himself, pulling on the mask of a gentleman to keep everyone at arm’s length— and yet despite his best efforts, here he was, his arms full of warmth and hope. He didn’t deserve them, and he knew it. 

She caught him watching her and broke character long enough to wink at him. She knew it too, his lacking. It didn’t stop a moment of her love. Kuon folded the script and stashed it in the side of his chair. He wanted to watch her act as often as they’d let him. 


	120. Pillow Talk

Their bags stood stacked by the door, two moderately sized carry-ons all they were taking. Sho’s wardrobe would be handled by the road team, and Koga had brought just barely enough to make it through a long weekend. He would buy some more clothes in L.A. Maybe a bigger suitcase. 

He looked up at Sho. The singer had his earbuds in, humming under his breath to a popular American song; his favorite way of practicing English comprehension. He wanted to reach up and lay his fingers on Sho’s adam’s apple to feel the vibrations from his voice. Instead, he reached up and tugged one of the earbuds out, taking it for himself. Sho looked down at him, his blonde hair falling over his face. 

“What is this trash you’re listening to?” Koga teased, more to keep his mind off of the decreased distance between their lips than any actual distaste for the genre. 

“Hey, you wanna keep this lap pillow you better respect Ozzy,” Sho said, tugging on the cord to reclaim the earbud. 

Koga snatched it back. “I don’t see how listening to someone slurring their words helps you with proper English at all.”

“Who said I want to learn proper English? I’m here to be a rock star, not a teacher.” 

He was running his fingers through Koga’s hair as they talked, his eyes back on the notepad he was using for composition. It felt so good. All of it. The slender lines of his leg beneath his neck, the gentle scrape of his nails over his scalp. Even the tug on his hair when Sho’s fingers caught in a tangled curl. They’d become hermits since Koga arrived, only leaving the room to grab better tasting coffee across the street or restock the small fridge. One last morning here in the peace, and then Sho was leaving for his tour. Koga could manage to make it to some of them-- the benefits of not having a manager was no one to heckle you when you turned down jobs you just didn’t feel like taking-- and he sure as hell wasn’t going to miss the first one. 

“You need to fire your manager,” he said, pulling up his phone to flip idly through social media. 

“Nah. She’s just clueless, not hateful.” 

“Same thing.”

Sho bonked his pencil on Koga’s chin. “Who would replace her? She’s already got the tour all worked out.” 

“I’ll do it.”

He rolled his eyes, setting down the notepad. “Shoko’s fine. She can be an idiot-- but I was too. I didn’t tell her anything. Tried to fix it myself.” He snatched Koga’s phone, typing in the search bar on his social app. 

“Give it,” Koga said, tugging on Sho’s arm. 

“I want to see what the dick posted after you punched him.” 

“Use your own phone.”

Sho gestured at the other side of the bed where his phone lay nestled among rumpled white sheets. The room was a total disaster, comforter and pillows and pizza boxes and beer cans on the floor from last night when Sho had demanded a floor movie party. 

“Hah!” Sho exclaimed, shoving the phone in Koga’s face. Reino actually  _ had  _ posted something. Koga sat up to look, his chin resting on Sho’s shoulder. God, it felt so good. That was quickly becoming his new mantra. Maybe he should become Sho’s manager and not just tease about it. 

Reino was posing on the Manhattan Bridge wearing sunglasses and a viral mask clearly stolen from a hospital. The caption read “corona chic.” 

“You must’ve really messed up his face,” Sho said, his voice filled with childish glee. “God, that stupid manbun. I want to just chop it off.” 

“You’d look good in one,” Koga muttered, nuzzling Sho’s neck. The singer blushed, his eyes closing for a moment before he replied.

“Damn straight. I look good in everything.” The words were sassy but Sho’s voice was breathless. Koga smiled and thought about nipping his ear and seeing where it went, but Sho threw out a question, stopping him. “Hey… I’ve been wondering. How-- how did you find me?” 

Koga didn’t reply for a moment. He felt like he was about to lose some important man points with this next revelation. He took his phone from Sho and double-clicked, switching apps. A quick flick and he had pulled up Sho’s vblog account. He handed it back to the singer. 

“You watched me?” Sho’s eyes were wide. His thumb hovered over the play button like he wanted to rewatch and double check everything he’d said. 

“Mmm.” Koga hesitated, but decided he might as well just go all in. “In one of them… you can see out your window. There’s a sign for the coffee shop across the street.” 

Sho blinked. He turned and looked at Koga, his eyes still overly wide. Slowly a triumphant smile dawned across his face. “You totally stalked me.” 

“Did not.” 

“Stalker!” 

Koga frowned at him. “You were in trouble. I was trying to help.”

“And you knew  _ that _ how?” 

Ah shit. He needed to stop talking. He leaned over like he was going to whisper the answer in Sho’s ear, then bit it instead. 

“Koga!” Sho yelped, standing up out of his reach. “Fine, don’t tell me how deep your stalkerdom reaches. It’s easy to be obsessed with me, I know.” Koga grabbed a pillow and chucked it at Sho with a growl.

Sho caught the pillow, his face thoughtful as he relaunched it back. “Do you wanna be on my blog?” 

“As a guest?” 

“No, ass, as a table. Of course as a guest.” 

“Don’t people watch it?” He flung the pillow at Sho’s head, grunting in disappointment when it was caught just before impact. 

Sho blew air into his cheeks comically, smushing the pillow between his hands. “You did. Hah!” He chucked the pillow again; it whacked Koga in the chest. “Lots of people watch it.” 

“Won’t they… wonder why I’m on it?”

“So?”

Koga ran his hand through his hair, trying to find words. Sho made it to comprehension first.

“You ditched work and dropped off the face of the world to camp out with me for a week, and now you’re coming to the start of my tour. I want them to see you. I want to own this, so when I sing your song everyone knows who it’s for.” 

“I’ll know, isn’t that enough?” His song. Koga could feel his face burning. Is that what Sho had been writing? 

“No one but me knew about Kyoko. No one but me knew about Reino. I’m tired of hiding the good and the bad parts of my personal life. I want to f’n throw a parade about this thing we have!” 

“You have no idea how people will react—“

“Worst case I retire. I’m already rich.” 

“It’s not that simple-“

Sho threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Don’t be on the blog. It’s not a big deal.”

An idea struck Koga. “Can I watch?”

“You already did. Apparently they suck too much to bother being in.” 

“No, I mean— can I watch you film?”

“Oh,” Sho said, biting his lip. The request hung strangely intimate in the air between them, like he’d asked to see Sho naked or something. Sho looked over at him, considering. “...yes.” 

“Now?”

“Now? Film one now?”

“Why not. Wait too long and we’ll get caught up in the tour.” Sho fidgeted with his phone, then nodded, his decision made. 

“Ok. You stay over there.” Sho said, pointing to the chair in the corner of the room. He opened the curtains to flood the room with natural light, grabbed his guitar and laid it on the bed, sorting the sheets to be neater but not perfect. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, finger-combing his hair into a trendily mussed side part. A tap and a smile—

“Hey, world, it’s Sho!” Koga bit off a laugh. This was so much better than on the screen. Sho eyed him, still smiling but with a glint of threat in his glance. “Leaving on tour today and wanted to catch up with you all. My last live from this hotel room.” He paused, his eyes flicking over the screen as he read comments. 

“Yeah I can’t wait too! This tour is going to be amazing. The design for the lights goes perfectly with my music. I can’t wait for you to see.” He was adorable this bubbly. Something inside him snapped into entertainer mode when he went Live and Koga wanted to mess with him. He stood, crossing the room. Sho looked at him for a fraction of a second. “First stop, L.A.! Throw a thumbs up if you’re going to see me there! Ah—“ he said, inhaling sharply as Koga reached him and trailed his fingers along the top of Sho’s leg, staying behind the view of the camera. 

“Ah, yeah, that’s a ton of you! I want to see everyone. Let’s see, next stop is  _ God _ , stop—“ Koga had shifted his hands down to the inside of Sho’s thighs, kneeling in front of him. The singer was blushing red hot. “—stop is Portland,” he continued, his voice slightly shaky. He scooted back on the bed away from Koga. 

“I’ve got some new songs that we will release exclusively on this tour and no where else until we’re done , so if you can make it—“ His voice hitched on the last words. Koga was climbing onto the bed, following him, his eyes full of predatory delight. This was fantastic. They should do Lives every day. 

“If you can make it—“ Sho tried again, but he couldn’t keep his eyes on the screen. “Sorry, I need to run— please come!” He hit end and threw the phone, reaching out to snag Koga by the collar and pull him into his hungry arms. 


	121. Acapella

He couldn’t believe he was willingly subjecting himself to this. He gripped the tickets in his pocket. He had about two miles until they got to the arena, more than enough time to change plans. 

Kyoko sat in the passenger seat, twisting happily as she looked eagerly out the window for a clue on where they were heading. He sighed internally, reaching over to take her hand in his. He wanted this for both of them. Fuwa may be an idiot, but he was a part of her life for better or worse and he wanted to show her that he was past his obsessive jealousy. Mostly. That he was the bigger man. At least height-wise. Kuon laughed at himself. Maybe tonight was more about convincing himself it was all over than anything for Kyoko. 

She finally saw the billboard on front of the arena and gasped. 

“Kuon! We’re not going to…”

He nodded, squeezing her hand. “I thought it would be a good idea to support your childhood friend. He’s about to lose a big bet when your movie premieres.”

“Our movie,” she reminded him. “And I love it! He’d lose his mind if he knew we were there, probably threaten to haul me back to Kyoto as his maid.”

“That’s an idiotic threat.” 

She beamed at him, her eyes glowing. “Can you believe that was what he tried to leverage me with? To keep me from falling for you?” 

“What?” Kuon tried to hide the anger from his voice. He was failing miserably. 

“I agreed, of course.” He was thankful they were at a red light because keeping his eyes on the road was impossible at that second. “I was in total denial then. About you.” She smiled at where their hands lay entwined. “He’s moved on though!” 

“What?” He was a broken record. She’d broken him. 

“His newest video blog, did you see it?” Kuon shook his head. Why would he watch Fuwa’s blog? “Ever since Fuwa-san showed me his ridiculous K-Pop one I’ve checked it now and again. The latest one has over a million hits.” 

“What? That many people are watching him rant?” 

She laughed. “Not rant. Get ah…” she searched for the word. “Propositioned.” 

“What!” He actually veered a little out of his lane. “And you watched it?” 

“I watched the comments more, it was hilarious to see who people were guessing it was. But no— I mean, it’s nothing scandalous. There’s just obviously someone there. In his hotel room.” She paused. “I think it’s probably the same person he imagined during the music video.” 

“Kyoko, I don’t think this was appropriate for you to—“ 

She was blushing as she ran her fingers lightly up his arm, forestalling his rebuke. “It made me think of you. The way he looked at her. It’s how you look at me.” She bit her lip, her eyes shyly watching him. She was still talking about Sho, but the way she was looking at him made him want to turn the car around and drive her straight back to his apartment. “I think he’s in love, Kuon.” 

“I hope whoever she is knows how to juvenile pricks,” he said as he pulled into the parking lot to the sound of Kyoko’s bell-like laughter. 

The drumline pounded in his chest, strobes pulsing light and dark like heart beats, immersing him in the sound of music that he really, really didn’t want to enjoy. And yet he kept catching himself swaying, his body a traitor to the cause with each time his foot tapped. He really didn’t want to like it but it was just unavoidably good. There was a reason Fuwa had vaulted over the barrier to international exposure that held back so many other bands. His words sounded like he’d ripped his own soul out and left it hanging to bleed over them in the air. To put it nicely. Kuon would’ve loved this music when he was a teenager. 

Kyoko was screaming next to him, shouting nonsense about her rival that got lost in the din immersing them. She was fierce tonight, glowing with the pride of a lion looking at the most delicious kill it had ever seen. If she would look like that at home too he was definitely buying the little terd’s CD. 

The song ended; he pulled Kyoko into a standing embrace as Fuwa cleared his throat, his voice booming through the sound system. 

“This next song is acapella,” he said, raking his hand through his hair and making front row fangirls scream. “Mostly because I haven’t had time to teach it to the band yet.” His grin broke out like the Cheshire Cat’s, wide and slightly unhinged as he took the microphone off its stand. 

The lead guitarist played a chord to set his pitch. One note, hanging in the air, the crowd waiting with a collective indrawn breath. Fuwa closed his eyes, letting the moment hang between them all— and then he sang. The words were crisp, a waterfall of hope pouring note by note from his mouth like he was running, chasing after someone and catching up step by step and then a breath. His eyes opened. He smiled. 

Songs of brokenness and longing, of recreation and rising had drawn the people here but this— this was a song of his heart. His voice soared over them as he leaned back, throwing himself into the song with the full measure of his ability. He looked so alive Kuon could feel the hairs on his arms standing and he drew Kyoko closer, wrapping her tighter in his embrace. 

_ I think he’s in love. _

The song was his finale, and while the last note still hung in the air he bowed and strode off the stage, leaving them all feeling strangely bereft. The light colors shifted, freeing them with the visual change and suddenly the arena exploded with life as people screamed, waving their phones and jumping in chaos, chanting his name. He didn’t return— the end was chosen and he was probably being carted off by his manager to a VIP signing. 

Kuon leaned around and kissed Kyoko on the forehead. “Do you mind staying for a little?” 

She cocked her head in surprise but nodded, trailing after him toward the front stage. The audience had mostly left by now, milling about in the open area where stars would sometimes descend to sign autographs after shows. Kuon smiled at her, asking her to take a seat in the front row before vaulting on stage. She gasped, frantically waving for him to come back down but he just grinned, mouthing, “Just a moment.” 

He wanted to nick one of Fuwa’s guitars. He’d been practicing his own ballad for her and couldn’t resist the opportunity to steal back her limelight for himself. Call it childish. He didn’t care. A man stood with his back to Kuon over by the rack of guitars, just far enough away he might not notice one temporarily go missing. He crept over quietly, armed with the excuse of being a fan looking for Fuwa. 

“Did you like the song?” 

It was Fuwa. There goes his excuse. He cursed under his breath and almost turned around, unwilling to actually be caught at the concert by the cocky bastard himself, but something in Fuwa’s tone prevented him from leaving. 

“I wrote it for you.” 

It was deeper, husky with desire. He was talking to Her. His Person. Then, before Kuon could turn and leave, Fuwa’s head shifted down to land a kiss on the other’s neck and Kuon could see— 

Him.

And he knew him.


	122. Devil's Food

“Sho, stop,” Koga whispered, but the way he held on to him sent a different message and that was the one Sho wanted to hear. “Someone could see.” Koga was breathless already; Sho wanted to make him so turned inside out he couldn’t form words. He pressed him back into the rigging, winding his hands around the thick ropes as he kissed Koga’s neck. 

“Sho.” Koga’s voice cracked. He was serious, and worried. Sho stopped, bracing himself on the ropes. He stood slowly, the movement torture. 

“Home. I’ll meet you at home.” 

Koga was blushing, his eyes widening at Sho’s words but he nodded, his hand lightly pressing Sho’s chest before he ducked out under his arm and fled. Sho waited til his pulse had calmed before heading out to call his own taxi. 

An hour later he showed up at their hotel room laden with his version of spoiling Koga. Mountains of food. Koga sat cross-legged on the couch, still wearing the jeans and black shirt he’d had on at the concert. He eyed the pile, a knowing smile flickering across his face. 

“What? It’s not a cop out. I’m saving you from my cooking.” He started unloading the catered goods from their paper bags, filling the table with crab dips and sushi and steak and his most favorite of all: fudgy chocolate cake. 

“I already ate,” Koga said, turning back to the book he was reading. 

“What! You dare spurn my love offering?” Sho flung a chip at him. “Eat, you pig.”

Koga swatted the chip out of the air, pretending to glare at Sho. “Not my fault you never ask before bombarding me with food. You could try it. The words are simple. Hi, Koga, are you actually hungry? Or is this just some strange mental fixation I have?” He stood, walking over to inspect Sho’s haul. “Maybe you just want to make me fat.”

Sho pulled out the cake, waving it in front of Koga’s face. “I did like my women curvy, we could see what your ass looks like after a few of these.” Koga punched him, turning back to pout on the couch. 

Sho joined him. With Cake. Koga dodged the bite of cake Sho held out to him on a spoon. “What, are you trying to live out all of your favorite anime tropes? I can feed myself.” 

“I just…” Sho trailed off, the spoon held out like a peace offering. His voice softened. “You’re leaving soon, and I want to spoil you.” 

“Mmm,” said Koga. He bit the cake and the spoon, pulling the utensil out of Sho’s hand. “Too sweet,” he said, shoving the spoon into the cake for another bite.

“You better eat it, you asshole. I’m being nice.” 

Koga held out the spoon towards Sho laden with a massive bite. Sho scowled at him before leaning forward and slowly, deliberately licking the cake off the spoon. His glare shifted, becoming a dare as he raked his teeth across the spoon. It hung in the air between them empty, waiting for Koga to decide if he wanted to shove it back for more cake or throw it across the room and grab Sho. 

“We could always…” Sho spoke softly, his face flushing as he watched Koga’s lips fall open. 

“If it’s just you  _ being nice, _ I don’t want to.” 

Sho leaned forward, his eyes filled with unspoken words. A delicate kiss on bottom lip, a tease of lips along his jaw, and Koga was falling to pieces before he even heard the whisper in his ear. 

“I don’t want to be nice.” 

A sharp intake of breath and Koga stood, pushing Sho backwards. He looked at Sho, his chest heaving and his eyes full of need. 

“I— I’ll be right back.” He seemed to flee then, the bathroom door shutting loudly behind him. 

Sho sat on the bed awkwardly. He was almost positive he hadn’t done that wrong. It had worked on women in the past, and he knew he had seen something similar in one of the videos he’d found.

“Damn,” he whispered. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” He ruffled his hair, staring at himself in the mirror as if his reflection could give him pointers on how to seduce a man. Maybe he should’ve told him he was beautiful first. It wouldn’t be a lie. The way the flecks of silver flashed in his eyes when he got mad was everything he’d never been able to find. He felt almost desperate to run his hands up under his shirt, ripping it off and finally, finally seeing the way his muscles under his skin. He wanted to— he wanted— Sho flew into action, pulling his shirt off and throwing it onto the chair. He stopped, looking at the door hiding Koga. Pants joined the shirt. 

Sho stretched out on the bed, his arms straight by his sides. He’d left his underwear on. He probably should’ve taken it off. Right? No. No, he should put his jeans back on. Crap, he couldn’t remember how the guys in the videos started. He sat up to grab his pants when the door opened and Koga walked in, slowly unbuckling his jeans. Sho fell flat on his back again, staring at the ceiling. God, how was it possible to want something so much and be so shitty at it! 

Koga’s hands froze when he saw Sho. “What are you doing?” he asked. 

“I’m ready,” Sho said, trying to make his voice seductive. 

“For what?” Koga’s voice was unexpectedly harsh. Sho swallowed hard, still staring at the ceiling.

“For you to put it in me,” he said quietly. He cleared his throat when Koga didn’t reply. “I’ve seen the videos, I know what I’m doing.” 

Koga’s voice sounded strange and thick as he replied. “What makes you think I want to be on top?” 

Sho’s eyes widened as he turned to look at Koga finally. Koga’s face was red hot, his eyes frustrated as he stared at Sho. He stalked over to the bed and knelt beside Sho, twisting his fingers into Sho’s hair and pulling his face to the side, capturing his gaze. 

“When we first met, one of the stupidest things you ever told me was that someday I’d look up and it wouldn’t be Tsuruga Ren on top, it would be Fuwa Sho.” Koga smashed his lips against Sho’s, a slight moan escaping him as he held Sho tightly. “You aren’t escaping that promise, pretty boy,” he whispered against Sho’s lips. 

Sho melted into his kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck before laughter consumed him. He dragged Koga onto the bed, rolling him over with a shout. Straddling him, he smushed Koga’s cheeks between his palms. “I am so in love with you.” 

Koga tried to avert his gaze, his cheeks hot beneath Sho’s skin. “I love you, too.” He met Sho’s gaze again, a teasing smile on his face. “You ass.” 

Everything was a mess — and everything was perfect. 


	123. Secret Keeper

”Change of plans,” he said as he slid off the stage. His plan of serenading her in the darkened theater, carving out their own private show from Fuwa’s space was suddenly an interruption to someone else’s evening. He’d find another way to give it to her. 

She was clearly curious, stealing glances over her shoulder at the stage and looking at him with wondering eyes, but she asked no questions. For which he was grateful, as he wasn’t sure exactly what his answers would be. 

_ Why are we leaving Kuon?  _

_ Oh, no reason. I just saw your ex-boyfriend making out with a man. _

Or,

_ Nothing really. Just didn’t want to interrupt Fuwa’s hot date with the #2 actor in Japan.  _

Or,

_ Remember that guy you wanted me to hang out with more? The one I ended up at an ONSEN with? Well… how to put this.  _

He was actually starting to think it was funny. All this time he’d been jealous of Fuwa, carefully safeguarding his and Kyoko’s relationship from his influence, while Fuwa was as far from interested in her as possible. Kuon was grinning like a maniac, he knew he was, he could feel his cheeks stretched to bursting. Not only was Fuwa out of the ring as far as Kyoko’s heart was concerned-- Fuwa was happy. Busting-at-the-seams happy. The kind of obnoxious happy that was hard to resist, sneaking out into the world and forcing even sworn enemies to wish him well. 

The streets around them were bustling with concert goers, taking selfies in front of the four-story tall poster of Fuwa. His mischievous side wanted to stand on that bench and scream out what he’d seen, causing a mass stampede back inside as a form of payback for all of the stress Fuwa had leveraged in Kyoko’s life. But it was impossible. After seeing Fuwa’s face while he sang and hearing his voice as he spoke to-- to Koga-- Kuon shook his head, still processing-- to interrupt them would be crueler than he was capable of. 

Cain might be able to handle it. He could always pretend for a moment to be the elder Heel again. Cain would do anything to pay back someone who had tormented his sister. 

No, no. He shook his head. He’d tell Kyoko and that was it. 

“What is going on, Kuon?” she asked from his side, her feet scurrying along to keep up with his harried stride. “You keep muttering to yourself and shaking your head.” 

He bit his lip, holding back a smile. Their car was just ahead, a safe zone from eavesdroppers. He held open her door and helped her inside, climbing into the driver’s side and slamming the door shut. The roaring noise of the crowds instantly diluted to a gentle flow of white noise as others filtered through the garage to their cars. He turned to her, his mouth open and loaded with the bomb.

She was stunning, sitting there in the moonlight filtering through the windows. They were a hundred miles away from their forest glade in Kyoto, but even in this concrete jungle she looked like she had been snatched out of a fairy tale. Her darkened hair set off her skin, the contrast drawing his eyes irresistibly. But it was her golden eyes that truly held him captive, and right now they were at their best, warm and bright over her smile as she waited for him to speak. 

He closed his mouth. Tonight was about their future, and telling her what he knew would derail the entire evening. He rapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Tomorrow, he’d tell her tomorrow. 

“Do you mind if we stop by somewhere before we head home?” 

She shook her head, settling back into her seat and resting her hand on the center console, palm up, waiting for his hand. 

All his romantic plans for starlight views from the waterside vanished, and he found himself placing the small black box in her hand impulsively. She closed her fingers around it instinctively, looking up at him in question. He sucked in a massive breath and hopped out of the car, his hand on the hood as he raced around to her side before she could open the box. This was all inside-out and topsy-turvy and he hated it but he couldn’t help himself. She was like a drug, and he kept leaping off every single cliff to get closer to her regardless of whether he had a parachute or not. 

He opened her door and tugged on her arm, pulling her up out of the seat he’d just helped her into moments ago. 

“Kuon?” she said, confusion pervading her tone. She was holding the box with both hands like she was afraid to break it. He covered his face with his hands, taking a deep breath to steady himself and then he was on one knee before her, his hand outstretched, his mind and soul full of nothing but her. 

People passed by their space between the cars, their voices echoing against the concrete framework of the garage. The wind whistled as it blew in through the small openings above their heads, bringing just enough moonlight with it to give her features an otherworldly glow beneath the fluorescent lighting. The ground where he knelt was uneven, with bits of pebbles and old oil stains. It was all wrong.

But she was here, with him, loving him, and they didn’t need anything more than that to make it perfect. 

He took her hand, his large hand engulfing hers as he gently opened the box and turned it to face her, leaving their fingers entwined. A solitaire diamond ring glinted in the moonlight. Tiny amethyst-studded roses twined around the band up to anchor the stone. It gleamed with an unusual deep purple when the light hit it-- for at the base of the diamond lay a small fleck of iolite, the same stone he’d given to her when they were children. 

“Mogami Kyoko, will you marry me?” 

Tears were running down her face, sweet trails following the curve of her smile as she looked from the ring to him and back. Her hands shook in his-- or maybe that was just his own hands shaking. She’d already answered him, he wasn’t nervous, but the act of being on his knees in front of her asking to seal their relationship with a ring was one he had dreamed of vividly for years now and the intensity of his desire for it was overwhelming. 

She nodded -- praise God, she  _ nodded _ \-- and he stood, trying to pull the ring from it’s snug bed but his hands were shaking too much and he kept fumbling. She was laughing, the sound mingled with tears, and then her deft fingers were helping him and it was out. He didn’t know what to do with the box -- what did people do with the box? It was in the way; he just dropped it on the floor beside them to roll under the car. Kyoko gasped in protest but then he was sliding the ring on her finger and the box was forgotten as they both watched. The movement was so simple. A ring of metal slipped on a slender finger. But each millimeter it moved was a fraction closer to her heart’s beating and a promise that his heartbeat would be hers, as long as she would have him. 

Suddenly he was shouting. He was holding her up in his arms and he was shouting at the top of his lungs in the parking lot, everyone’s faces turning toward him as they walked to their cars, then breaking into contagious joyful applause when his words lost their echo and registered in their ears. 

“She said YES! Yes! She said yes!” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was unreal how much everything changed. She’d said yes before, but now she’d accepted him and everywhere she went people knew. The sun was his accomplice, hitting the diamond at the right angle to flash at onlookers with perfect execution like they’d been planning this for years. They’d arrived on set together-- he, holding out a giant coffee to Yukihito as an advance apology for the extended hours he was about to have to pull to cover the P.R. hurricane he unleashed the moment he posted the picture to his social media. 

It was from set this morning. She was dressed as Mulan, and he as Li Shang. She was wrapped in his arms, her eyes closed as he leaned down about to kiss her. The camera’s focal point was on her hand, outstretched beyond them, capturing the ring front and center. He posted it and signed off, sliding his phone into the pocket of Yukihito’s suit jacket. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you warning, Yukihito,” he said. “But I promise not to do it again.” 

Kyoko had whacked him playfully at that, warning him that two proposals was more than enough for anyone and if he so much as tried to propose to anyone else she’d show him what Mulan did to traitors. 

Yukihito put his phone down for long enough to tell them they were trending more than Fuwa’s notorious hotel room vblog, holding out his fist for a bump from Kyoko. Kuon couldn't hold it in any longer with that. He’d been a model of forebearance but this was just too perfect of an opportunity. 

“I know who he’s in love with,” he whispered in her ear. She perked up, turning to him eagerly. If she had a tail it would wag. He waited a beat, drawing it out. 

“Koga Hiromune.” 

He sat back to watch her reaction. He loved surprising her. She was always so unhindered with her responses. She was looking at him calmly. She blinked several times. The smallest of smiles turned up her mouth at the corners. He waited. 

She stood and walked away. Kuon almost called out after her— maybe she hadn’t heard him over the noise of the production team setting props. But then her hands shot up to the sky and she started doing a flippitty-jump dance so contorted it looked like she was trying to imitate the love child of a hummingbird and a sea snake. A whoop of glee and Kyoko was running back to his side, her hands balling the fabric of his loose jacket sleeves into wrinkles the costume team would have to steam out. Her face was incredibly close to his, eyes massively wide. 

“Did you say what I think you said?” 

He nodded, pursuing his lips to keep the delight in. 

“As in, Shizuma? That one?” 

He nodded again. She dropped his sleeves, spinning with her arms in the air. Suddenly she was leaping to Yukihito’s side.

“Yuki-kun, a favor. Can you find out if my old costar Koga Hiromune has been on any jobs in the past two weeks?” 

Yukihito nodded, only a slight crease between his brows betraying any curiosity at her question or questionable antics. A few short calls later and he reported back, stopping Kyoko ceaseless fidgeting. 

“Koga-san fired his manager just over two weeks ago and left the country. He has yet to return; his agency said he has a new movie project starting in a few days so he should be back from wherever he is if you still need him.” 

Kuon recognized his manager’s expression just then. He was dying to ask more details, but was suppressing the urge beneath the veneer of professionalism. He itched to tell his friend too, but it was not his secret to share. There were many hurdles Fuwa and Koga would face in the future if this was their chosen path. His own struggles and taught him empathy at least and he refused to take any action that risked increasing their burdens. 

Kyoko was beaming at him victoriously. She thanked Yukihito and plopped down in her chair by his side. Leaning over, she whispered in his ear. “He was the one in the room. The video blog room.” 

Kuon blushed, trying not to imagine yet another of the pair’s intimate moments.

“I think Fuwa may need a plus one at our wedding,” he whispered in return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last chapter of Every Move You Make. I usually end sentences like that with exclamation points, but I can't quite bring myself to do so. Thanks for all the love, and I'll see you all on the other side of 124!


	124. The Final Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, just over six months after I started this fic, and I can’t believe it’s done. I have loved every minute of writing it, from the sweetness of Ren x Kyoko, to the revelations of Bo and Kuon, and the script for Lotus. By far, though, my favorite was the craziness of Shoga. Who would have thought that a wild idea on who to pair Sho with for his journey into owning his actions and owning himself would take such deep root in my heart?
> 
> I’ll probably be posting Shoga one-shots in the future, so if you have inspirations please send them my way! I’ll be posting some fanart on my tumblr and this Ao3 version of the story (it is posted on FFN as well in a censored version), because golly gee whillikers why not.
> 
> Thanks for absolutely everything. You may not know it, but by reading you were there for this momma during a time of life with drastic ups and downs and I won’t ever forget it.
> 
> Persie loves you!
> 
> And without further adieu—

**Six Months Later**

Koga smoothed his jacket down over his hips, pulling it taut so the shoulders lay just right. His hair was combed back in an attempt to tame the waves. The new look made him feel slightly self-conscious. Actually, everything about tonight made him feel self-conscious. He couldn’t blame it on the hair. That one curl sprang back out to lay in its favorite spot near his temple. He frowned at it. 

The moon was already high in the afternoon sky; he could see it just cresting the cherry trees from their apartment windows. Tokyo was blooming for the Event of the Year, even the kamisamas joining in to decorate their land for the celebration. 

Kuon Hizuri had no reason to invite him to his wedding. The event was notoriously private, only fifty-odd people having been invited. Immediate family and their closest friends — and Sho, in what Kyoko had termed an “olive branch” to restart their friendship. She and Kuon had just returned from filming Mulan, only in town long enough for a bride and groom shower a thousand times larger than the wedding itself at the Takarada mansion. All of their costars, past and present, as well as members of the domestic and foreign media had been invited to that event. 

Fifty-odd people made the transfer from that circus of a gala to the wedding itself. 

And he was one of them. 

He pulled at his jacket sleeves again, situating them the perfect inch above the crisp white cuff of his shirt. Arrogant, curt, belittling. Those were the words he’d use to describe his less-than-stellar interactions with Kyoko since he’d discovered her ties to the man he’d called Tsuruga. 

Clumsy, awkward, inept. Words for his conversations with said Tsuruga.

And yet he made the list. 

Koga chewed on the inside of his lip, still embroiled in private debate when strong but slender hands slid around his neck, drawing a silk tie under his starched collar. Sho kissed the back of his neck, then moved to stand between him and the mirror. He smiled at Koga, adjusting the tie straps to lie perfectly even before looping the knots. He’d been practicing, Koga noticed. This was their ritual. Every formal function, be it a dinner or premiere or night out, if Koga was wearing a tie, Sho would tie it. The first knots had by all accounts looked like they’d been tied by a third grader. Koga compensated by rolling up his sleeves and mussing his hair, claiming a grunge chic look instead of retying the knot when Sho finally gave up and called it a mostly-win. 

Tonight’s knot was even and crisp, tied with hands deft enough to release Sho’s eyes to wander their way up to Koga’s as he finished. He smiled, then dropped his eyes again. 

“Is it because it’s him?” Sho asked, his voice soft.

“Who?”

Sho stepped back, leaning against the mirror with his arms crossed. He looked out over the Tokyo skyline. “Tsuruga. Hizuri. Poster boy. Is he why you’re so wound up?” 

“What? No—“ 

Sho studied him, staying silent. 

“It’s not. I—“ He searched for words. “I don’t understand why they invited me. Do you think they know?” 

His partner’s grin was cocky, a challenge thrown at the world beyond their windows. 

“And if they do? Koga, you should know by now.” He pushed off the wall to stand in front of Koga, holding out his own tie. Koga took it, reaching up behind Sho’s neck. Sho turned his face to brush against Koga’s just as he leaned in closest. “How long have we been living together?” 

Koga drew the ends of the tie down, tugging to straighten them. His hands rested on Sho’s chest for a moment before moving to start the knot. “How many fights have we had?”

“Do the ones over how many cabinets you use for pudding count?” 

Sho smirked, shaking his head. Koga finished the knot and finally met Sho’s eyes. “You’re an ass,” Sho said. “But you’re my ass.” 

He reached over to their dresser to grab Koga’s watch off the top, sliding it over his wrist. “And I’m not going anywhere, no matter who knows what or what they have to say about it.” 

Koga leaned into Sho, resting his forehead on his lover’s. He sighed. 

“We’ll be careful,” Sho said, his breath a whisper over Koga’s skin. “If you’re not ready, you’re not. I love you anyways and I’m the only one that needs to know.” 

“I thought you wanted the world to know.” 

“I do, idiot. But not until you do too.” 

——-

The church was blooming. Kyoko has asked Sho’s family to provide flowers and greenery local to their ryokan in Kyoto, and they’d gone above and beyond, creating a lush backdrop of plants that made it feel like the wedding was in their carefully tended onsen gardens. There was even a small fountain near the back of the sanctuary with funny flat rocks that looked vaguely like hamburgers for guests to write well wishes on and decorate the scene. 

He and Sho mingled separately in the small crowd before casually sitting on the bride’s side, halfway back. Takarada Lory was resplendent in his officiant’s tuxedo, notably understated compared to his raucous daily outfits. He saw Fuwa and waved unexpectedly, excusing himself. 

“Fuwa-san, what a pleasant surprise. And Koga-san as well! Welcome, welcome.” He leaned down between them, his voice lowered conspiratorially. “Congratulations.”

Koga flushed, turning to him with a rush of sudden anger but Sho cut him off. 

“You are too dedicated, Takarada-san, following my career as if you want me for LME. My last album did destroy the records again, though, so maybe it isn’t that much of an achievement.” He sneered at Takarada. Something told Koga he was enjoying the excuse to kick back into old habits of sarcasm and pride as a shield a little too much. 

“Ah, did it? That’s good. But no, no,” Takarada continued, his face beatific. “I was referring to your graduation from the LoveMe Section.” 

Sho almost stood up in shock to confront him, but Koga gripped his elbow, holding him down. 

“I was never in your ridiculous club.” 

“Mmmm, so you say.” He glanced at Koga, nodding acknowledgement. “Anyways, just wanted to pop over to give recognition where it’s due. Off to do the angel’s work!” He strode back to the front of the room, beaming over the assembling crowd like a proud father. Sho sat back against the pew, his face blank. 

The music started, a beautiful piano piece. Yashiro Yukihito and Kijima Hidehito filed in from the right wearing light gray tuxedos with a small cluster of white daisies in place of a boutonnière. A pause, and Hizuri Kuon followed. He was in the same garb, but his slim build, blonde hair and green eyes made him look otherworldly. Or perhaps that was just the aftershock of the look on his face: a blend of hope, love, and anxiety that twisted you up inside just by looking at him. 

He shook hands with Takarada, then stepped down from the slightly raised stage to embrace his mother, who was already crying. Hizuri Julie kissed her son on the cheek twice, then pushed him away, gesturing for him to quickly rejoin the line. The music was shifting, drawing out to a smoother and softer cadence as the back doors opened. 

Amamiya Chiori entered first, her head held high and a knowing smile on her lips as she boldly stared at Hizuri while she walked down the aisle. Kotonami Kanae followed her. The woman was classic elegance, not a single jet black hair or footstep out of place as she followed her friend. It was hard to believe, looking at her in the gauzy silver evening gown, her hair studded with tiny pearls to match Amamiya’s, that this was the same woman who had not hesitated to destroy the entire acting career of one of America’s most beloved male stars by exposing photographs of him trying to sexually assault her to the media. Rumor was it she’d purposefully allowed herself to be caught alone on set after dark. And that she’d ensured with some well-placed self-defense moves that even if he got out of prison, he wouldn’t be having children. She smiled at Kuon, a warm and bright smile from her heart that jarred Koga out of his reflections. Wait— no, she was smiling at his best man. Koga smirked. Yashiro had his hands full with that one. 

The music crescendoed, then stopped. Hikaru Ishibashi stood from a few rows in front of them, a violin tucked under his youthful chin. He was smiling, but it was a tender, broken sort of smile, the kind you give when you know something precious is slipping out of your hands. He closed his eyes, caressing the smooth wood of the instrument and then drawing his bow across the strings. The violin’s song started with a plea, then soared high into a merry celebration of life by Hayden. It was the perfect song for Kyoko; she was the light of life captured in a human soul, and without further signal the assembly stood as one. 

Hizuri Kuu stepped forward into the open doorframe first and bowed, smiling at his son so far down the aisle, then extended his hand, capturing a delicate, white-gloved hand in his. His smile turned gentle, the look of a father for his daughter on her wedding day. 

Kyoko stepped to his side, one radiant glance for her adopted father before her entire being was drawn toward the altar where her love waited. She smiled, tears shining in her eyes that matched the diamond forget-me-nots pinning back her ebony hair. She began the walk to his side, Kuu walking by her side, her white mermaid-cut dress shimmering in the light as she moved. She looked ethereal in her simplicity, like a she had stepped out of a fairy tale into life. 

As they neared the altar, Kuu released his adoptive daughter’s hand, taking his son’s and drawing it to link with Kyoko’s. Clasping their joined hands for a moment, he then stepped back to join his wife. The pair sat, and the rest of the assembly followed. Koga was intensely aware of Sho by his side, as if her walk down the aisle had awoken his senses to a new level. 

Takarada spoke, his bellicose voice ringing out over the gathering. 

“We come here today to celebrate life. Life that doesn’t always run the course we most desire, life filled with bruises and tears, with shouts of anger and moments of great loneliness. Life at its worst. 

“We come here to celebrate life. Life that weaves threads we call fate, stringing hope by hope until it becomes a waterfall of expected joy. Life that carries us through the worst of days because we know we are destined for the sun. 

“We come here to celebrate life. Life that is filled with abundant love. Life that we may pray to be blessed to see reflected in the loving eyes of another. Life that by its very nature takes our souls and transforms them into something eternal.

“We come here to celebrate life. And it is this life, in all its facets, that Hizuri Kuon and Mogami Kyoko have pledged to one another.” 

He pulled his gaze from the guests to smile down at Kuon and Kyoko. Koga brushed his fingertips against Sho’s. He desperately wanted to feel him, to know their connection was real at this moment. Sho’s hand moved, wrapping tightly around Koga’s. He felt his pulse start to hammer at the risk of being seen, but to move away would be a small death. Sho casually picked up his program, looking at it briefly, then laid it down open over their hands. 

“Hizuri Kuon, do you take Kyoko to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, til death do you part?” 

“I do,” Kuon said, his green eyes shining with joy as he looked down at his bride. 

“Mogami Kyoko, do you take Kuon to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, til death do you part?”

Kyoko’s smile trembled, so full of emotion. “I do,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. 

“By the powers vested in me and with all the pride and joy in the world I hereby pronounce you man and wife!” Takarada threw his arms out, looking like he desperately wanted to leap in the air. “You may kiss your bride!” 

Kuon bent low, his every move shouting out how desperately he loved the woman standing in front of him. His hands were shaking but his smile was bold and brilliant as he leaned forward and kissed Kyoko, her chin raising to meet him. Tears fell down her cheeks as she kissed her husband. There was no one else but them in the room, a man and a woman -- once, a boy and a little girl -- wholeheartedly in love. 

——-

The reception afterward was at Kuon and Kyoko’s new home, much larger than his apartment but meek compared to the Takarada palace. Sho strode ahead of Koga into the mix of people and alcohol and seafood hours d'oeuvres after a quick whispered, “I promise to behave until we’re home. Then all bets are off.” 

Koga filtered off in the other direction, looking for Amamiya. She’d co-starred with him in a drama over the winter and he wanted to hear her upcoming schedule. Sho was chatting boisterously with the Ishibashi brothers, his arms over Hikaru’s shoulder as they exchanged shop-talk on guitars and roadies. He hummed with life, emotions flashing over his face one after the other as he talked. Disgust, favor, interest, boredom. Koga loved that about his face. So transparent. He wanted to lay his fingers over his features and just feel the way they moved as he changed expression. He settled for popping some sushi in his mouth and scooping a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. 

He had two more films scheduled this year, and one was with Seiji Shingai. Shingai was among the few invited; he’d just spotted Koga and was making his way over. Koga smiled politely, angling himself to receive Shingai where he still had a clear line of sight to Sho, who was now chatting with Kanae. Now that was an interesting pair. Shingai was talking to him about scripts, and character design, and he really should pay attention, but he couldn’t stop wondering exactly what the woman was saying to Sho. Sho was smiling, and it wasn’t his fake smile. Koga refocused on Shingai. 

“--mid-century vocabulary, if you think you can handle the shift?”

“Mmm, shouldn’t be a problem.” What had he just agreed to? “Would you send me that in writing?” 

“Ah, sure, sure,” Shingai said, giving him a look. He nodded over at the newly married couple, raising his glass to them in miniature salute. “Guts,” he said, the single word speaking volumes from him. 

“Guts,” Koga said, raising his own glass. 

“What’s with the intestinal talk?” 

Sho had wandered over. Koga fought to keep himself normal. He was a professional actor; this shouldn’t be that hard, but when every nerve was screaming that this man, this beautiful man was standing beside him and he shouldn’t touch him it was very, very difficult to stay calm. Maybe he should just grab him and run. Watching Sho introduce himself boldly to Shingai and strike up a conversation about thematic score composition, he felt pride bubbling up deep inside. He really had meant it when he said he’d leave it all and become Sho’s manager, hadn’t he? Koga felt himself smiling at himself in disbelief. 

They were seated for dinner at a table with the Ishibashis and the owners of the Darumaya, who seemed to love Sho. Sho scooped fish out from the family style platter, serving the Okami first and then Taisho before serving himself. Koga looked at his own empty plate. He knew Sho did it from love. He knew it was exactly what he’d asked for, and yet— ah, he felt like an elementary age child bursting with the need for validation. Koga gripped his chopsticks and served himself, then slid one of the most succulent looking pieces surreptitiously onto the edge of Sho’s plate. 

Dinner was delicious. Koga’s favorite part was when Taisho unexpectedly stood and asked to give a toast to the bride and groom. It was brief, gruffly spoken in a voice that projected across the room without a microphone. 

“Two years you stayed with us after you were hired. You became as precious to me as my best knife. More. My wife,” he looked down at her, asking permission with a glance. The Okami smiled at him, squeezing his hand in surrender. “My wife and I cannot have children. The gods gave you to us.” He held out an old, worn Daruma doll missing its right eye. The Okami stood, handing him an ink pen. He bowed to Kyoko and then filled in the right eye. Kyoko stood, rushing out from behind the table she shared with Kuon to wrap Taisho in a bear hug. The older man grimaced, stiffening, then slowly unfolded, his arms wrapping tightly around her. 

When she finally stepped back, Kuon stood by her side. Taisho held out the Daruma doll to the pair, shaking Kuon’s hand after Kyoko accepted the gift. The Okami hugged both of them too, her eyes moist. 

Then Kyoko was by Sho’s side, complete Daruma in her hands. He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. A moment of awkwardness, a smile from the bride, and the pair were suddenly locked in a hug that looked more like a wrestling match than a show of affection. 

Kuon tapped Sho’s shoulder, breaking the hug with his intrusion. Sho sized him up — Koga could tell he was trying to stand as tall as possible — then stuck his hand out to demand a shake. Kuon let him wait a beat before meeting him and letting the past fall away as they shook hands. Koga could feel the groom’s gaze shift to him and busied himself with his water glass, spinning the long stem between his fingers. 

“Koga-san,” Kuon said. Koga sighed and stood, feeling like he was facing the guillotine. He put on his best game face, smiling brightly as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Kuon was waiting for him, his hand outstretched. 

Koga placed his hand in Kuon’s, and suddenly he was being pulled forward into a hug of his own. A thousand memories of bygone dreams flooded his mind and he almost laughed out loud at himself. Kuon clapped him on the back, stepping back afterward to join Kyoko who was beaming at both of them. She shook his hand too, more shyly, and he found himself wishing he’d spent the duration of _Lotus_ plotting ways to get closer to her as a friend instead of her husband as a lover. 

The after dinner music cued up. Kyoko and Kuon were swept away by the Hizuris and it was just him and Sho, standing shoulder to shoulder, watching the couple share their joy. The song playing was a little loud and obnoxious, but soon it shifted to a slower tune. A few couples drifted onto the dance floor. A wild idea gripped Koga.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked Sho without looking at him. 

Sho stilled, his hands returning to his pockets. “Of course I do,” he answered under his breath, making sure the noise didn’t carry. “But this is fine.” He turned toward Koga, nodding back at their table. “We can clink the glasses and make ‘em kiss till their lips fall off. It’ll be hilarious to try and time it just right to interrupt every time they try to eat.” Koga stopped him with his hand on his sleeve.

“I want to dance.” He could feel himself burning. “With you.” 

Sho stood very still, his eyes watching Koga as if trying to bite into his soul. Then he nodded, and all at once he was holding Koga’s hand and they were walking out onto the dance floor. He could already hear the whispers rising, threatening to flood over them, and all they were doing was holding hands. And then they were on the floor and Sho turned, and he pulled him close with one tug on his arm, and they were dancing. 

Hands linked, his arm around his waist, cheeks pressed together to hide the rising blush as they felt the room around them still. But was it because the moment was perfect or because no one could breathe? Koga refused to open his eyes and see. They were dancing, his hand in his, and it was everything. 

A hand touched his shoulder and he burrowed farther into Sho’s shoulder but her voice was kind as she called to him. “Koga,” Kyoko said. Just his name, that was all. He stood straighter, and opened his eyes to see his lover’s smile and Kuon and Kyoko dancing next to them. 

Sho was laughing, the sound bright and beautiful in Koga’s ear. His hand was firm on his waist, a proud and possessive grip, his eyes flashing as he dared anyone to tell him that he couldn’t have his love. Koga had never wanted to kiss him more in his life. 

And so he did. Right there, in the middle of the dance floor, their faces lit by the flashes of cameras, he kissed him. They were dancing still, their bodies slowly moving together but now their lips danced too, and he knew he would remember this moment for the rest of his life. 

Sho broke the kiss when Kuon whooped, just long enough to nudge Kyoko and call out a taunt— “Bets on who gets the headline tomorrow. You still haven’t caught up to me, little sister!” Kyoko’s mouth fell open and she turned, kissing Kuon hungrily. They all laughed, swaying as the music shifted up in tempo — then it burst into its rhythm and everyone was dancing and everything was a mess and everything was perfect. 

**TOKYO NEWS**

**WOMEN RIOT AS BOTH TOP BACHELORS CLAIMED**

_Kijima Hidehito Finally Claims #1 Spot, Promises Open Arms for All_


	125. Epilogue: Double Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A story told for the Birbs, who are incorrigible encouragers. I love each of you desperately. 
> 
> If this is your first time through EMYM, sorry for marring the perfection of Kijima's headlines with this lovely nonsense epilogue. I needed to, for Clara.
> 
> If you're one of the nutsos that has read EMYM all the way through, you do realize that's like the equivalent of 4 published YA novels? Just so you know, this crack is for you. 
> 
> Onwards, to a double date for the Hizuris and Shoga. 
> 
> xo, pers
> 
> \--

Kuon tugged at the neckline of his black tank. “Does this cut make my neck look weirdly long?” he asked his wife.

There was no answer. The bed reflected in his full-length mirror held only rumpled sheets, empty of curled-up wife angel. He wandered out into their living room. 

Kyoko was halfway up the floor-to-ceiling windows, toes gripping the trim, face red, fingers splayed. Kuon didn’t even blink. “Sun of my heart, do you think this top makes my neck look long?”

“No,” Kyoko grunted, thrusting herself up six inches with the word. “That’s just your neck.” Her grip slipped--Kuon braced himself--she pushed off mid-fall, springing over his shoulders in a full backflip. 

“Mean,” he said, pouting. 

She frowned at the windows. “I’ll take him down today if it’s the last thing I do.” 

Kuon stepped in front of her, sticking his lip out slightly. His eyes transformed into deep, shining wells of sadness. When Kyoko finally tore her eyes from the window she squirmed beneath his gaze. “Mean,” he repeated. 

“Kuon,” she said, his name on her lips still more precious to him than any pet name would ever be, “you know I love every inch of you. Even the long ones.”

“Especially the long ones,” he said. His pout twisted into a mischievous grin as he pulled her close. She blushed and nodded silently. It was brief, but the kiss she planted on his jaw would carry him through every moment of the impending double date.

\---

“When I asked you to do the laundry,” Koga said, shifting uncomfortably in the passenger seat, “I assumed you knew you had to hand wash silk.” 

Sho veered sharply into the next lane, slamming Koga into the door. Koga frowned and braced his foot against the center console.

“I assumed your underwear wouldn’t actually be silk, asshole.” 

Koga tugged at the elastic band of the borrowed and slightly-too-small, slightly-too-cotton, slightly-too-Sho-doesn’t-give-a-ripe-fuck-about-comfort. He refused to rise to Sho’s bait, pulling the visor mirror down to check his hair instead. 

“If you don’t stop fussing, I’m going to run us through a car wash.” Sho wiggled the wheel, making Koga’s curls fall back out of place. “With the windows down.” 

Koga flipped him off but closed the visor. It was normal to have some anxiety about going out with people like Kuon and Kyoko. Even if they had tied for Sexiest Taken Man. Complicated pasts were not so easily buried. He glanced at Sho, running his teeth over his lower lip. Especially lifelong complicated pasts.

“Are you… excited for today?” Koga asked, chewing on the pause between his words.

Sho laughed, accelerating sharply. “Can’t wait to destroy her.” 

“It’s rock climbing. Not a competition.” 

Sho’s answering grin was feral. Koga swallowed hard. If he’d been driving, they’d be pulling over right now so he could do something about that grin. 

“Everything with Kyoko is a competition,” Sho said, ripping the wheel sideways and tearing black stripes across the parking lot of the studio. 

\---

The massive studio warehouse was dimly lit, crates and set pieces stacked in an order understood only by stagehands. A single corner glowed brightly, tucked behind Lory’s personal Lawrence of Arabia props. Koga ran his hand curiously over a lifesize camel, spinning as he walked to read the writing on a canvas sack as large as Kuon. 

IMPORT OF ARABIA

HIGHEST QUALITY DESERT SAND

GRIT GUARANTEED

Kuon stood in front of a realistic cliff face holding a network of canvas straps that looked made for something far more interesting than rock climbing. Sho whooped, drawing the couple’s attention to their entrance. Kuon tossed him a set of straps, his smile annoyingly carefree.

“Late and lazy,” Kyoko said, sticking out her tongue at Sho. 

Koga held up the mess of straps. Several buckles dangled, held together by a polished carabiner. He hefted it carefully, keeping his gaze focused on Kyoko and his mind carefully clear of any questionable fantasies involving straps. 

Sho grabbed a harness from Kuon, immediately trying to shove his feet through holes, talking smack with Kyoko nonstop. “At least I’m not stupid and small.” He stood on one leg, unable to find a second hole large enough for his foot. “I’m gonna cream you. First to top—loser buys.” He hopped, shaking the tangled net. 

Kuon had his on and fastened already. The snug fit made it very difficult to keep casual eye contact. He was helping Kyoko into hers, tugging gently to pull her back against him while she fired back at Sho. 

“Buys you a brain? Sure,” she said. She was bouncing too, popping around like popcorn. 

Koga watched Kuon, mimicking his actions as he assembled Kyoko’s harness. It fit as snugly as it looked. Damn Sho and his Normal Cycle wash habits. He turned to the perpetrator, anger turning to mirth at the sight of his lover tangled up like a blonde kitten that got over-enthusiastic with its yarn ball. “Do you need help?” he said. 

“Mental help,” Kyoko said. 

Sho flipped her off. “I’ve got th--” He tripped over his own ankle, arms windmilling and feet tangling tighter. 

Koga closed his eyes. Ren shouted. Kyoko laughed. 

Sho fell with a thud into the giant bag of sand. It swayed, a billion grains eager for release. Sho scampered forward, his eyes wide and neck twisted behind him. For a breathless moment the bag held at the top of its arc. 

“Timber!” Kyoko called, pushing Kuon backward to safety. 

The crash shook the ground, splitting the side of the bag and spilling a dune into the room. Sho stood knee-deep at the edge, his face red. 

“Yeah,” he said. He flipped his hair out of his face. “Sure. I’ll take some help.”

\--

Kyoko could feel every single hair on her arms standing at attention as Kuon connected the belayer’s rope to her harness with a click. 

His voice sounded far away, pushed down the wind tunnel of her rushing pulse. “If you fall—“ she looked at him; no fear clouded his eyes, “—I’ll catch you.” 

A sharp tug on the rope. Her pelvis lifted, toes barely touching the floor. Last time she’d worn one of these she’d flipped head over heels three times. Her muscles sang with memory. She nodded sharply, glaring at Sho. 

He was leaning back into his harness, sway-backed and simple-minded. Koga’s muscles showed clearly as he held the rope taut, keeping Sho from crashing backward. 

“That’s enough,” Koga said. 

Sho shook his head, his bleached hair floating above the ground. “Dunno. Few more seconds. Proof you can catch me.” 

Koga scowled and jerked hard on the rope, suddenly sitting into his harness. The movement slammed through their connection. Sho’s hips flew skyward and his head hellward and his lips curse word. 

“Enough.” Koga stood up slowly, setting Sho down gently, if head-first. 

Sho lay on the ground dramatically until Kyoko laughed. He moved like some wannabe action hero rising from a near-kill scene, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. 

“Let’s do this,” he said. 

Kyoko and Sho dipped their hands in chalk dust, clapping loudly. Koga coughed, disappearing in the dust storm. 

Kyoko heard Kuon whisper to her. “Get him.” She winked, gripping the rope for a moment before stepping up to face the wall. It reared before her, a wall of rock pitted with crevices and cracks. Parts were smooth, the bold light glinting off the sheer face. One--her favorite--jutted out into the warehouse, daring her to hang upside-down. 

Kuon counted off. She glanced once at Sho. He stuck his tongue out and she answered him with the rude gesture she’d thrown at Tsuruga Ren ages ago. 

“Go!” Kuon shouted. 

She leapt forward, the rock giving more purchase than their living room windows. A grin cracked her face as handhold after handhold sprang easily to her reach. It was like climbing Kuon. She flew. Her arms began to burn. Her body was humming, working, thriving beneath the stress. 

Blonde and cursing hovering just out of her peripheral vision. She pushed herself harder. The wall six inches up was sheer. Kyoko hollered down at Kuon, “Left!” She felt the rope tug as he shifted around her; a comforting tug at her waist as he pulled the line taut. The hold lapsed. The line slackened. Kyoko leaned back. Only the tips of her connected to the wall, her body feeling the siren call of gravity as she bounced once, twice--then exploded up and out. 

She was flying. 

The space of a breath, a single weightless moment, and all of life. 

Kyoko slammed against the rock. Her fingers carved deep into the crack she’d aimed for. Her foot slipped, caught, kicked in triumph. She roared at Sho. The path ahead of her was clear. She could hear him just beside her, breathing heavily and singing. 

“Feeling you is my craving,” he crooned, his voice only hitching a little when his grip slipped. “Can’t sustain--ain--ain--”

“Sho,” Kyoko said with a grunt, thrusting herself up. “Shut up about Koga.” 

“THESE BOUNDARIES!” Sho scream-sang, swaying from a single handhold to wave down at Koga. 

Kyoko scoffed, sorely tempted to stomp on his hand. She chose moving up instead of focusing on Sho, always a good life plan. The top was a body length away. She stretched. Sho grabbed her ankle and jerked. Kyoko’s grip slipped. The rock flashed before her, gray and dark and rough against her skin. She dug her fingers and grit her teeth against it; one hand caught. Her shoulder snapped. 

Kuon’s voice was the first thing to come through the white. He was yelling over and over, the same word. Her name. She waved at him, forcing her other arm around. The pressure off her shoulder, she rolled it, testing the joint. It held. Kyoko exhaled fear and inhaled rage. The wind answered, dragging her grudges back out of the bomb shelter they’d formed against Kuon’s love. 

Her laugh began deep in her chest, thundering outward. 

“Shotaro,” she said, hissing his name. “You better run.” 

\---

Sho felt the air around him grow cold. There was no air vent above him, and a glance over his shoulder revealed the giant fan stashed among Lory’s set items was off. He heard Kyoko’s voice. 

Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes. Sho shook his head and shoved out a breath, forcing his own hot air into the unnatural cold surrounding him. He could feel her behind him, rising with a speed no human should be able to muster. The f-word replaced the lyrics to Chocolate as his new mantra. 

This wall had sucked, and sucked hard. And not in a good way. God, so not in a good way. Good ways were so good, and this was so bad. His shoulders hurt and his thighs wouldn’t stop trembling and his fingers were callused in all the wrong places for this kind of friction. He knew he shouldn’t have tugged her ankle. He could hear Koga down there still reaming him out. But she’d been about to win. And she was tied by a rope to the largest freaking man in all of Japan--she was fine. “Overreacting crazy woman--” he threw the words into the smattering of fucks. 

Of course they were the ones she heard. 

Kyoko growled and suddenly, terrifyingly, Sho couldn’t move. Something held him to the wall. Sho forced his hand down to his waist, fingers trembling as he struggled against the force to check his carabiner. It wasn’t caught. 

Slender fingers wrapped around his ankle. Sho bit his tongue. Whimper, he told himself, and you’re never getting laid again. 

Her grip released. The cold held. Her eyes were burning ice as she drew level with him. She’d never been more beautiful. 

Kyoko reached up and touched the ceiling. He’d been there--he’d been so close--if he could move, he would scream. He couldn’t, so he watched the smile transform her face into a goddess of war. 

“You lose,” Kyoko said. 

Sho felt his head move in the forced march of a nod. He clenched his jaw but his head moved anyways. Kyoko laughed. The sound thawed something inside the room, the cold sloughing off like life’s second skin. Sho sagged. The rock felt wonderfully solid beneath his cheek. Kyoko pumped her fist, hanging out over the room. 

They were several stories high. Koga and Kuon looked like fairies, tiny dots of perfectly drawn men. Well, one perfectly drawn man and one asshole. 

Kyoko was looking down too. Wonder drew her eyes wide and stilled her laughter. Sho started to grin back at her. He could see the idea forming in her mind. A spark--that’s how they began with her. Deep inside, then rolling outward as the flame of dream consumed her. 

“Do it,” Sho whispered. 

Her smile back was a conspirator’s promise. She said nothing, frozen joy in front of him. Then with one graceful twist and press, Kyoko was flying. 

\--

Kuon was still fighting his own anger when she leapt. He wanted to kill Sho; the next moment, he wanted to kill Kyoko. 

The worst part was how perfect she looked. Her hair a golden halo, her back arched and her limbs loosely held. She was poetry unfurling, verbs of love and passion painting the air above him. 

The rope’s heat burned his palms through the heavy gloves, but he was slowing her. He braced himself, then slammed the rope lock down. Her weight hit the line and for a moment they were both flying. He won, his feet touching the ground first. Prayers that were just her name whispered from his lips as he watched her spin above him. 

She spun slowly, eyes closed, mouth curled in bliss. He lowered her down and into his arms, hugging her tight against him. 

“Kyoko Hizuri,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “Please.” 

She hummed, tangling her fingers in his hair. “I flew. Like a real fairy. Kuon, dear-- I flew.” 

Koga was staring at them slackjawed. Kuon unclipped her caribiner and set her down gently on the ground, cupping her cheeks gently. She gazed at him, golden eyes molten with joy. All he could do was shake his head. 

“Promise me,” he said, “that when you go skydiving, you’ll let me be the one that pulls the cord on our tandem.” 

She glowed, beaming at him. He’d married an angel. A terrifyingly beautiful angel. 

“Skydiving is a fantastic idea,” she said. 

\--

Koga tugged on Sho’s rope, annoyed that he was still up there staring down at Kyoko. She was insane, not beautiful. Well, maybe a little beautiful. 

Nonetheless, it was no excuse to lollygag and leave him down here like a slave waiting--that analogy must never be finished. Comparing the Number Two Most Eligible Bachelor to a love slave is something that must never--

“Shotaro!” Koga yelled. He jerked hard enough on Sho’s rope to pull the pup off the wall a bit. 

Sho cursed, clutching at the rock. “Asshole,” he yelled back. “You want me to leap too? Burn your precious baby hands with that rope?” The words disintegrated into cursing as Sho shifted his weight and slid down a few feet. 

“Bring it,” Koga said. He widened his stance, trying not to watch Kuon and Kyoko being lovey-dovey. The public displays of affection were by far the worst part of a double date. So often it felt competitive. 

He looked up at Sho. If Sho launched himself, he really wasn’t sure he could stop him. He fiddled with the emergency stop on the belaying rope. Worst case, they’d crash in midair. They were roughly the same size. He measured Sho with his eyes, letting himself linger on certain areas longer than necessary. The angle was extremely favorable. Roughly the same size, indeed. 

Sho was letting himself drift down with a series of stops and slides. Koga let himself entertain the notion that he was doing it for him. He bit the inside of his cheek as Sho neared the ground. The rope slacked; his feet were on the ground. He was turning toward Koga, a smile on his face brighter than a thousand falling angels. 

“My turn,” Koga said. He tugged on Sho’s harness, unclipping him slowly. He could feel Sho’s breath on his neck. It tickled. He held his head still; his instincts begged to turn away from the feel of his own hairs stirring on his skin. Sho’s hands were on his belt, taking longer than he needed to twist the security lock open on Koga’s belayer’s hitch. 

“Sure,” Sho said. 

Koga could feel the word. “Sure.” 

“Get a room,” Kuon said, his voice tinged with warmth. 

Koga’s cheeks were hot, but he forced eye contact with the other actor. Kuon was smiling, richer and warmer than the poster had ever looked. Koga’s mouth twisted, then opened in shock as strong hands pulled him forward. 

“Mine,” Sho said with a growl. He pressed Koga into a mortifyingly gentle hug. Kuon’s only answer was to wrap his arm around Kyoko’s shoulder, holding her close. 

Koga cleared his throat. He nodded at the wall. Sho huffed, but stepped back and hooked the line into his belt. 

The chalk was soft on his skin, the rock rough. Kuon stood beside him, a few frustrating inches taller. They said little. A “belayer belaying,” “climber climbing,” and the ascent began. The only sound that of his own breathing and the scrape of Kuon’s shoes on the rock. 

And the bickering of the two blondes beneath them. 

“You think you can catch yours first? That giant lummock?”

“Seriously? You’re calling Kogs giant--have you even seen your man?” 

“Oooooh yeah baby. I’ve seen him.”

“Shut up Kyoko. That’s disgusting.”

“What? I have eyes. I’ve seen him.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Oh my god Sho. You dirty perv.”

“I’m a perv! I’M the PERV.”

“Yes. Absolutely. Perverted. Where is social services? I need to find Koga some help.” 

“Kuon’s the one that comes home to a freaking old maid every day!”

“That’s the best you can do? Call a twenty year old married woman an old maid?”

“Cleaning woman! Old! Crotchety!”

“Eeeeee and I’ll stab you in the balls with my knitting needles.”

“Oh my GOD,” Koga yelled, his knuckles white. “Shut UP.” 

A few raspberries later, the immature children below silenced themselves and Koga continued his climb in peace. Kuon had never struggled with the noise; an occupational benefit of living with Kyoko, Koga supposed. His moves were swift and precise, like the wall was memorized already and he was merely going through the motions. It reminded him of Rusu.

The rope snapped against his chest. “Hey old man! Gonna move or just sit there and screech at me?” 

Koga threw one hand behind his back in a lewd gesture that Sho answered with “Promises, promises!” and the other up, chasing after Kuon. 

Kuon reached the top well before him, bracing himself against the crook of wall and ceiling to look out over the warehouse. “I can’t believe she jumped from here,” he said. Kuon was looking down with an incredulous smile. His wife stood next to Sho. 

Koga could see the blonde of both heads perfectly and hear a low murmur. They were at it again. “Not even paying attention,” he said. He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice, forcing a chuckle. He wiped the sweat off his brow, wedging his foot into a nook and resting as best as he could eighty odd feet in the air. 

Kuon’s answer was soft and easily missed. “Do dreamers ever?” 

He smiled at Koga then. Koga found himself wondering what kind of boy Kuon had been. He smiled back. “Ready?” he asked. 

Kuon grinned a wildcat grin. 

“Now or never,” he said. 

Kuon held one fist out. Koga pressed his against it. 

They drew in a breath together, and let it out in a shout that shook the rafters they hung from. The noise below stilled. 

They flew.


End file.
